Rocky Roads
by samsexton17
Summary: Evelyn walks into the medical center bleeding and on the run from her past. Receiving help from Dr. Watson and his wife eventually brings her to a certain consulting detective's front door. He takes up the case to save her, but will she actually end up saving him? And who is the mysterious man that keeps trying to kill her?
1. Chapter 1

Evelyn walked slowly into the bright fluorescence of the medical office. She winced as she limped, and held her side where a slow stream of blood was leaking out of a wound. There was dried blood sticking to the auburn hair on her face, and she brushed it away with her hand. She adjusted the old military jacket she wore to cover her ripped shirt beneath as she walked down the empty hallway. She was nearing the end of it, and pushed open one of the opaque, glass double doors with all the strength she could muster.

She practically fell into the waiting room, but caught herself at the last second and staggered. No one was waiting in the blue chairs, a fact Evelyn was thankful for. _No doubt they'd call the police_, she thought. She hobbled to the small check-in window, but there was no one sitting at the desk behind. Evelyn cursed and sucked in a breath to prepare for the walk to the back to try and find some medical equipment so she could at least fix herself up. As soon as she stood up to attempt walking again, a short woman came out of the door leading to the examining rooms.

The woman was kind of short and of medium build. Her hair was short and blond, and she looked about in her late thirties according to the lines surrounding her deep blue eyes. She was wearing a striped dress shirt and blue cardigan, with black slacks and ballet flats. Evelyn could see the twinkling of a small diamond ring on her left hand, showing off her married state. When their eyes met, Evelyn read in them signs of concern, but yet also of fear. _Just like everyone else_, Evelyn couldn't help but thinking, but she shook the thought away.

"Please, can you help me?" Evelyn asked as piteously as she could. The woman's eyes glanced at the door leading to her desk, and Evelyn knew she was thinking of calling the police for help.

She raised her hand in surrender, the one not clutching her makeshift bindings on the wound in her side. "Please, don't do that. I can't afford being sent to a hospital," She lied. "If you don't want to help me, you don't have to, but please just lead me to a quiet room where I can patch myself up. Then I'll be out of your hair and you'll never see me again."

The woman's eyes showed conflicting feelings, but apparently one won out by the light, nervous smile on her face. "No not at all, miss. This is a medical office, so why don't we get you some medical attention. Right this way." She came forward to help, and Evelyn leaned against her gladly, taking some of the pain off her aching legs. The woman led her to the back rooms, down a small hallway to one where light was pouring out.

"John?" She called out, grunting a bit from Evelyn's weight. Evelyn heard footsteps, and out of the open doorway poked the head of a man. He saw the state of the stranger and hurriedly rushed to help. His height was just a bit taller than the woman's, but still quite short. His hair was short and sandy blond, and cut precisely. He seemed about the same age as the woman, but his wrinkles were a bit more apparent, from what reason Evelyn couldn't pinpoint. He was wearing a green patterned dress shirt and maroon cardigan, with dark khakis and dress shoes. His gold band matched the woman's, confirming Evelyn's suspicions of them being together. He took off most of Evelyn's weight from the woman and half-dragged her into the room, surprising Evelyn with his strength.

"Thanks, Mary." _Ah, so that's her name._ "I'll take it from here." Mary nodded but didn't respond. John sat her down in a chair and rapidly got some medical supplies together. Evelyn looked down at her jacket and moved the fabric. The ratty cloth she had been holding against the wound was soaked with red and she shakily peeled it away from her tattered skin. The man came back and pulled up a chair in front of her. He exhaled, puffing up his cheeks, before shaking his head and going to work on Evelyn's wounds, tending to the worst one on her side first. He was working precisely and quietly for a little while, until he spoke.

"Jesus... should I ask what the hell happened to you?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." She smiled lightly for the first time in what seemed like years, then winced as the needle went through the skin, sewing together the separated pieces of flesh.

He chuckled and muttered, "That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

Evelyn snorted. "Not too bad, doc. Not too bad."

He smiled as he worked. "I can't take the credit. A friend of mine came up with that gem."

Her face contorted a bit in pain, and he apologized. "No problem, doc. You're making it a lot less worse than I probably would've if I was fixing up myself." She paused. "So, this friend of yours. Does he always have something smart to say?"

John made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."

He finished sewing it up and cleaning it, and bandaged it securely, before beginning to clean the cuts on her face. "Well, doc, sounds like someone I'd like to go out for fish n' chips with someday." Evelyn chuckled, then smiled a bit sadly at the true longing in that sarcastic statement.

John caught the look in her eyes and they made eye contact. "Maybe." Then he went back to work. "I doubt you'd want to meet him if you knew him. His name's Sherlock Holmes. You ever heard of him?"

Evelyn shook her head, wondering what kind of mother gives their child such a ridiculous name.

John smiled. "Maybe it's for the best you haven't. He's a consulting detective, and solves crimes all the time. He's right brilliant, but can sometimes be a real git." That made her laugh. She looked around the room and noticed a war badge laminated in a frame on his desk, while he continued. "And then there's his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, who can be sweet but also occasionally has some 'herbal soothers' on the side, if you know what I mean. Also, our friends Greg Lestrade, who's is a DI, and Molly Hooper, a pathologist that helps with cases. I do on occasion, but I've got the wife at home, so I can't exactly be running around London all the time, shooting at criminals."

Evelyn's eyebrow lifted at his explanation, and couldn't believe someone's life was almost as crazy as hers. She laughed at the irony of his statement, which made him only look confused.

She explained, "Sorry. It's ironic because I used to be a forensic sketch artist, so I'm used to that kind of lifestyle."

His brows smoothed out. "Ah. What a small world." They were silent once again, until John sat back in his chair with a huff. "There. That should do it."

Evelyn lifted her left arm to test out her side wound, which surprisingly only ached a bit. She reflexively flexed and checked the rest of her muscles, which were definitely sore.

"Wow, you did a fantastic job. Thanks, doc."

"No problem. And you can call me John. John Watson." He held out his hand and she hesitated a beat, before taking it and shaking.

"My name's Evelyn. Evelyn... Well, let's just leave it at that." She smiled weakly. John looked a bit confused but just nodded. Evelyn stood and looked around awkwardly.

"Well, thank you for all your help, John. Give my regards to the missus as well." She smiled. He stood suddenly, which made her teeter backwards a little bit in surprise, and he caught her good arm to keep her from stumbling. He looked into her eyes seriously.

"Evelyn, I don't know what happened to you, or what you're afraid of, but I know someone who might be able to help. Sherlock Holmes is the cleverest and bravest man I've ever known."

At this outpour, Evelyn's eyes began to tear up to her amazement. "I... He can't. I'm sorry, if you think he can, but he can't. I really have to go." With that, she rushed out the door back into the waiting room. He followed close behind and called out as she was almost out the entrance.

"Wait! Where will you go?"

Evelyn stopped and turned around. "Oh you know, just wandering the streets of London. Looking for absolution, purpose, all that smooth jazz... You take care of yourself, doc. Of your wife and friends, too. You won't know you need them until they're gone." With those final words, she fled the garish lights of the small medical office.

* * *

Evelyn languidly walked down the streets and alleyways, not very sure where she was going. The bright orange glow of sunset was streaming down its warmth on her face, which made her even more sleepy than she already was. The night before had not granted her much rest, with her sleeping on a park bench and all. She quietly contemplated when the last time she actually got a full night's sleep was, but couldn't recall.

In her dazed thoughts, she didn't notice that she had been walking beyond the knowledge of her current location. She was brought back to reality when suddenly alarm bells began to go off in her head. Her tiredness was immediately shaken off and she was in full alert mode, sensing that someone was behind her. She used the reflections in the windows of passing cars to look without turning her head, and noticed that a man was following her. He was doing it quite stealthily, and Evelyn thought to herself that if she wasn't who she was, she never would have noticed him. He was wearing even more ragged clothes than she, and had his hood on his sweatshirt over his head, hiding most of his features.

Evelyn stood up straighter and continued walking at her normal pace to not give any indication she knew he was there. She casually turned the corner into an alleyway, but as soon as she was out of sight of passerbys and knew he was right behind her, she whipped around and grabbed him by the collar, shoving him up against the brick wall roughly.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?!" Evelyn hissed dangerously.

When his hood fell back, Evelyn saw that it was just a young boy, barely a man. He was in his early twenties, just a few years younger than she. His face was dirty, which only made his light blue eyes stand out more. His hair was brown and he had some stubble. His face was squarish in shape, and his nose rather large. His eyes were rimmed pink, and he looked tired as well. His eyes widened and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Woah, dere miss. There's no need to be 'ostile. I'm jus' doin' my job. I'm s'posed to be checkin' up on yah. For a mister Sherlock 'olmes."

"Sherlock Holmes?" Evelyn let out a groan. "Dammit, John."

He nodded, his cockney accent thick. "Yeah. John Watson wanted 'im to do it. Said you needed 'elp."

She released him and stepped back, crossing her arms and glaring at the man. "What's your name?"

"Some call me the Wig, but you can call me Wiggins."

"Alright, Wiggins. Where can I find this 'Sherlock Holmes'?"

He shuffled and looked down. "'e lives a' 221B Baker Street. The doctor used to live there too, but 'e went an' got 'imself married."

"Thanks, Wiggins. I hope we won't have to meet again." Evelyn strode off to find a map, but heard the strange man call after her.

"You an' me both, miss."

Evelyn walked along the busy streets until she came upon a street merchant for magazines, newspapers, and other wares. She quickly found a map and looked up the address, and left when the man started yelling at her: "Are ya just going to stand there or are you going to buy something?!"

She continued on to her destination, and observed the incredible bustle of life going on around her. It was chaotic, but still beautiful, the way the large, red buses of London loomed over the streets, casting dark shadows, and the way people shoved past everyone in their hurriedness. Evelyn was reminded how much she truly loved London. She was born in America, but some complicated circumstances forced her to retreat to the United Kingdom, living day by day while struggling to survive.

The autumn air suddenly gusted by her, and she wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. She felt like she was completely out of place in the crowd, although to others she was almost invisible. It made her sad sometimes, knowing no one would ever know her, or her story. People rarely even showed kindness Men often leered at her on the street, though she knew she could take care of herself. John and Mary were the first people who have actually taken the time to talk to her and help her when she was in need without calling the police. True, they still showed fear, as everyone has and always will, but it was soon squashed from their eyes as their true altruistic nature showed itself. At the thought of their kindness, Evelyn resolved to be polite to Mr. Holmes when she met him instead of telling him to just fuck off.

She had just finished promising herself this when she looked up and realized she was on Baker Street. She found a small building and a black door with the label "221B" plated on it in a golden metal. She took a deep breath and knocked. She waited a minute, and almost was deterred into leaving, when the door cracked open.

In the doorway was a small, old lady. She looked about in her sixties and had short brown hair that spiked out at the ends. Her eyes were big and smile lines crinkled when she saw Evelyn. She wore a maroon, flowered dress and brown leather flats. She smiled up at Evelyn like she had known her all her life, to which Evelyn just stood there dumbfounded.

"Oh yes! Come in, come in! It's quite a cold day outside isn't it? You must be used to it though I'm sure."

"...Yesss." Evelyn responded hesitantly, wondering how the woman knew that. She stepped inside the small hallway at the woman's quick gestures and looked around. It looked like an ordinary collection of flats, with stairs in front of Evelyn that she thought must lead to more. The woman started up those stairs, and Evelyn had no choice but to follow. Whilst Evelyn trailed behind the woman, she called up the stairs.

"Sherlock? It's another one of your homeless network! She might have some information for you!"

Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks at the top of the stairs. "Excuse me?" She ignored Evelyn and walked right into the flat without knocking. Evelyn continued walking behind her, and curiously looked around the empty living room. There was a nice fireplace which currently lay unlit, that had a skull resting atop it, and Evelyn tried to fool herself into believing that maybe he just really liked Hamlet. There were two armchairs in front of it, and a large table beside them that was absolutely littered with books, papers, and other strange objects. Also around the rest of the room were so many books, it made Evelyn's heart sing in longing. There was also a sofa with coffee table in front of it and a peculiar, yellow smiley face on the decorative wallpaper that Evelyn noticed, to her dismay, had several bullet holes permanently cut into the wall. The skull and now that made her extremely wary of the man she was about to meet.

The lady went around the corner and started speaking rapidly to someone Evelyn couldn't yet see. "Oh Sherlock! What have I told you about doing experiments on the table!? Oh it's ruined now! You're buying me a new one! By the way, if you didn't hear, one of your homeless network is here!"

"Mrs. Hudson, do shut up. Your speaking is deterring my scientific methods." A deep, rumbling voice came from the mystery person, annoyance lacing his tone. "And you're incorrect on the woman. She is not one of my homeless network, as she wouldn't have knocked, and her pace is light but slow, showing signs of trepidation which usually shows wariness, in this case, of being in a new environment. Also she would not have waited in the doorway, and her heavy breathing indicates hidden agitation. Now get out so I can finish without your petty interruptions." Evelyn's eyes widened as she heard Mrs. Hudson's frustrated scoff, and saw her come back around the corner.

"Good luck." She whispered with raised eyebrows, and Evelyn muttered, "Thanks, I guess." Evelyn watched her return downstairs and hesitated about turning the corner.

"Oh do come in already. Your hesitation is driving me up the wall." The man's voice rang out.

Evelyn took a deep breath and headed into a room that was apparently the kitchen. The dining table was a mess, cluttered with chemicals and scientific equipment, as well as a microscope, to her delight. But what amazed Evelyn was the figure standing beside it.

He was very tall, and looked like he was nearing his late thirties. He was very slim, which only made him appear taller. He was wearing a t-shirt, pajama pants, and a blue dressing gown, but also wore no shoes. He had on safety goggles over his dark, curly hair. His face was the most unique thing Evelyn had ever seen. It was rather long and his cheekbones were so prominent and sharp she was sure they could cut someone. His eyes were small and piercing, and Evelyn couldn't even distinguish the colour. In them were coldness and condescension, that made you feel like you were completely stupid. Evelyn shrunk back at his calculated expression, feeling like he was reading her mind. His eyes raked over her, but she didn't feel like he did it in a lascivious manner.

When his eyes met hers, his brows furrowed together. He spoke quickly, barely taking breaths. "You're homeless, but have signs of artistic skill, as apparent in the muscles of your hands, so you were not always so. You wince occasionally with certain movements, showing you were wounded recently and are still recovering. You seem comfortable with the lab equipment scattered about, so you used to work around forensics. You were a forensic sketch artist for the FBI. Your accent is originally American, where you are from, but you left, quite hurriedly given the state of your clothes, showing you didn't have time to bring extra with you. So, you were running from someone. Parents? No, your parents died tragically when you were young. Lover? No, you are introverted and reclusive, and have not had many partners at all. Must be the government. Small government branch, probably limited to the FBI. But you were a lowly artist, so what could you have done? Or known? Hmm... requires further information."

Evelyn just stood still during his speech, and after he was finished, she was frozen on the spot, her mouth slightly parted.

"Do close your mouth. Your loud breathing is quite nettlesome." Evelyn did so, but not without a glare.

"How do you know all those things about me?" She spoke low.

He smirked, which made her want to slap it right off his face. "I simply deduced it. It was quite easy, Evelyn."

"John had to have told you some of that stuff about me, like my old job and lack of housing, but how the hell did you learn everything else, like my parents?! Who are you?" She pointed a finger at him angrily, which only made him smile wider. He removed his goggles with a flourish and placed his hands behind his back, standing up straight.

"I assure you, Evelyn, that I was not informed of anything by John other than your name and that you required help. As for your parents, when I mentioned them, your face expressed their fate easily enough, and if only one was deceased, you surely would have gone to them seeking refuge when you were on the run, but you didn't, so it was obviously both of them. Lastly, John already informed you of my name, being Sherlock Holmes. I am the world's only consulting detective. People come to me when they need help, and I solve cases for them, and do help the police on occasion when they are at a loss. Well... I suppose that counts as every occasion."

"But... you... that's..." Evelyn was at a complete loss with this man. Then, she remembered her promise to herself.

"Yes, if you're going to tell me to 'piss off', I am perfectly prepared."

She shook her head in feigned confusion. "No... I mean... that was... completely brilliant. Kind of blunt, I'd say, but you made up for it in the end."

Sherlock's rigid stance grew still, and his brow scrunched together. "A compliment? Unexpected, but... not altogether unwelcome."

"Yes, it was extremely clever. But, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline on the help."

His head tilted to the side a fraction. "John told me you were desperate."

"I'm sorry, but John was wrong. I'm perfectly fine on my own." Evelyn gave him a smile for good measure.

He squinted. "Highly unusual. You obviously have some pent-up emotion, but are very good at hiding it, indicating a long life of solitude and loneliness. Yet even with your lack of understanding human nature, you still somehow possess the ability to empathize and grant kindness. Peculiar."

Evelyn's smile wavered. "If you would stop analyzing me like I'm some math problem to be solved, that would be great."

Sherlock ignored her comment, and continued to stare into the distance stiffly, like he was in completely different place.

She stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, until they both heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Sherlock looked like he relaxed, as did his posture. "It's just John," he mumbled.

Evelyn looked at him incredulously. "How did you know that?"

"His footsteps are heavy, and his stride is recognizable." With that, John came through the door leading to the kitchen, and when he saw Evelyn, he smiled and nodded.

"Evelyn, I'm glad you're here. I assume you've met?"

Sherlock responded first. "Yes, we are quite acquainted."

John addressed Evelyn. "So, how's your side?" He approached her and lifted her shirt exposing her abdomen and bandaged wound, in full doctor mode. She stumbled backwards a bit, but Sherlock reached out and caught her arm. Having two men in such close range and touching her made her face burn.

Sherlock released her and cleared his throat once again. John stood up straight after making sure her side was fine.

"It looks like it's healing nicely." He said.

"Thanks to you, John." She replied, smiling, her face still bright red.

He looked to her then Sherlock. "Well, have you found a way to help her?"

Sherlock turned his body toward her slightly. "I was going to assist, but the lady refused my succor."

John looked confused and turned to Evelyn. "You refused? Evelyn, I promise you, this man can help. Whatever is happening to you, he's the man for the job. He's solved hundreds of cases before."

As both pairs of eyes turned on her, she took a step back. "John, you make that promise, but let me make you a promise, that no matter how intelligent Sherlock is, he cannot help me on this. Please. Please, I'm begging you. Just leave this... me... alone." She turned to go, when Sherlock blocked her path, causing Evelyn's eyes to widen.

"Miss Evelyn, I believe you greatly underestimate my skills. It's obvious what you have dug into has caused you a great amount of pain. No matter whom is after you, I am positive I can be an intermediary. They are, after all, simple Americans, and will no doubt rely on brawn rather than brains. You have been alone all your life, and I must tell you that I, too, have known the feeling of alienation. Do not think I am disingenuous, because you would be wrong in that aspect. But, you must trust me in order to secure the life you should be living and end this conflict." The calculated look in his eyes gave nothing that looked like he just said what he did say, but Evelyn heard the underlying emotion in his voice.

John looked at Sherlock with surprise, never hearing such a confession of his past to someone he barely knew. Evelyn peered into his eyes, looking for some flicker of deception.

She spoke softly. "You know, I have an ability that most do not. The ability to read how someone truly feels in their eyes. And I do not see insincerity in yours." She looked at both of them and sighed. "I will allow you to help me, but only if I can assist on the case as much as possible. As much as you think you can overcome this with ease, I must tell you that you need my help as much as I need yours." She stared into Sherlock's eyes, unwavering, and she thought she saw a sliver of appreciation.

The corner of his mouth rose slightly. "All right, then. Your temerity is most refreshing, I must say, Miss Evelyn. Before we get started I need to know all that you do."

Evelyn cringed but nodded. "Fine. But if you're going to learn me inside and out, you might as well do away with the formalities. Just Evelyn is acceptable."

"Deal... Evelyn." He held out his hand and she grasped it firmly, shaking it once.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N So sorry I haven't updated in a while! I thought I did, but apparently I'm still getting used to the FF system. Please enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

Evelyn followed the two men into the living space, where they pulled out a chair from the large table and set it facing the fireplace and each sat in one of the two armchairs almost like it was routine. Sherlock took the modern, black leather one while John took the red, plushy one. Sherlock immediately placed his hands together, almost like he was praying, and put the tips of his fingers to his mouth. Once they were all settled and John got a roaring fire going, she took a deep breath and started on her story.

"As a child... I had a relatively normal life. I had two loving parents that had a better marriage than I knew most parents had. My father was a scientist, and worked for a large company "Nettle Inc.", ran by a wealthy man named Benedict Nettle. The company mainly focused on doing their own research on things father always told me he could never speak about to anyone. My mom was a lovely woman, and she was a secretary for that same company, assistant to one of the higher-paid individuals in the building. We were a wonderful family, and always got along. I had never really noticed that I was different than the other children, by not wanting to play with others or dozing off in pre-algebra because I had mastered Calculus since I was ten. Whenever I came home from school crying because I was made fun of, my mother would always quiet me and tell me that they can't understand me because they weren't like me. I didn't know what she meant... then...

Everything was fine until I was eleven. One Saturday night, I was at home alone while my parents were out on a date. It was growing late, and I thought of calling them, but decided against it-"

"Yes, if you could get on to the point." Sherlock interrupted without moving, and she glared at him. John kicked him not so subtly in the shin, and he grunted. John nodded at her with a smile.

She continued. "I heard a knock on the door, and I rushed to it, excited to see them. But, instead I was faced with a policeman. I was intelligent enough to know what had happened, and I fainted. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and a man in a suit stood next to the bed, telling me my parents were caught in a mugging walking to their car, and were 'accidentally' murdered in the process. I was sent to an orphanage, where I remained in constant foster care until I was legally old enough to inherit my family's possessions and some money. I went to college, got a job as a Forensic sketch artist, and became an employee of the FBI. The items I received were shoved away in a closet, never to be opened, until one particularly downhearted evening I... drunkenly reviewed the old things. It was then I discovered a secret opening in the bottom of one of my father's boxes, which contained information I never would have imagined. I informed my colleague and friend of it at work the next day, which apparently was being monitored. I was almost captured and taken in to be interrogated, and tortured no doubt, but I narrowly escaped them, and have been on the run ever since." Eve looked at the floor.

Sherlock spoke briskly. "What was the information? You obviously avoided speaking about it."

Eve took a deep breath and shut her eyes. "It... it related the findings of my father's personal research, which contained... the blueprints of a new hypersonic weapon." The room was silent except for the occasional crackling of the fire.

Sherlock spoke. "And it's intended purpose?"

Evelyn clenched her jaw. "The machine can release small, contained atomic explosions."

John's eyes were huge. "With enough of those, one could destroy entire cities. Countries!"

Sherlock's lips pursed. "Yes it could. Which is precisely why the government desires it. No doubt my pesky brother would love to get his rotund fingers all over them. Let's just try to keep _you_ out of his extensive knowledge."

Evelyn nodded slowly and looked at the floor. "So... what now? I suppose I could go back out onto the streets and stay in hiding, updating you every so often."

One of Sherlock's hands left his chin to wave away the notion. "No, that won't work. My brother's spies are quite thorough, I assure you." He sprang out of his chair. "There is only one solution. You'll have to reside here."

Evelyn nodded, then shook her head in surprise finally realizing what was just said. "W-what?"

John voiced in. "Sherlock, are you sure that's wise? I don't know if her staying here would be... the most suitable."

Sherlock looked at him, completely confused. "Unsuitable? What would be unsafe? I know many forms of combat, and Scotland Yard is a quick text away. She could stay in your old room, since you so adamantly refused to live in it after your bethrothel."

John rubbed the back of his neck. "How much longer are you going to be bitter-" He stopped himself and sighed. "Yes, fine. That's not what I meant anyway. You... You're not exactly the easiest person to live with."

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock's face set into a mix of confusion and stone.

Evelyn chose that moment to step in. "Don't I get a say in all this? What if _I_ don't want to stay here?"

Sherlock and John ignored her. John's face smoothed out, almost in defeat, and Sherlock looked a bit smug for some reason, as if he had just won some mental argument.

"Then it's all settled. John, I would advise you to transport the rest of your possessions out of your room to make way for the new guest. Also-"

Evelyn stomped her foot a bit childishly, frustrated as he continued to speak as if she wasn't there. "Hey! This is in no way settled! I refuse to stay here!"

Her outburst quieted them. Sherlock spoke softly. "Evelyn, I'm afraid you have no other choice. It is either reside here until we can solve your case, or live on the streets and likely get killed."

Evelyn felt light-headed all of a sudden, and sat down on the sofa with a plop, staring at the ground. "I've survived this far. I've always been able to take care of myself."

"Maybe, but now there are new players. A new chapter has begun. What has gotten you by before may not surpass presently."

Evelyn finally nodded slowly, but then looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because..." For the first time Evelyn has seen since she met the man, he seemed hesitant. She thought she spotted some underlying emotion, but it was replaced with coldness before she could've been sure. "Because I am a consulting detective, and it is my job." With that he nodded at her quite swiftly and turned to John.

"I suggest you remove your possessions as quickly as possible. I am going to change." With his bathrobe whipping behind him, he strode to a door at the end of a small hallway connecting to the kitchen, and slammed it shut.

John, in an attempt to break the awkward tension Sherlock left in his wake, smiled at Evelyn. "Still want to have fish and chips with him?" He joked.

She shrugged and giggled, then stopped short when she realized this was the second time this man has caused her the joy she's felt deprived of for almost a decade. John looked at her, concerned at the strange face she was pulling. Evelyn gazed up at him, and immediately jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He let out an _oof_ as the air was knocked out of him a little in surprise, but returned it momentarily with awkward pats.

"Thank you, John. For everything." She whispered into his ear as she crushed him tightly to her.

He simply nodded into her shoulder, somewhat confused but understanding nonetheless.

At that exact moment, Sherlock's door flew open and the man himself came striding out, buttoning up his suit jacket. He ceased walking when he saw the embrace, and walked past them, his head held high, as Evelyn jumped away from John upon seeing Sherlock.

"Honestly John, to think you always make the excuse that you're married to not assist me on my cases and yet here you are. Bachelor John Watson indeed."

John just rolled his eyes at the jib, knowing better, but Evelyn blushed deeply and stuttered. "No! I-It's not like that. I was j-just expressing my thanks."

John glared at the other man whilst addressing Evelyn. "No, he's just being a twat."

Sherlock harrumphed and sat in his leather chair. Evelyn noticed the shirt buttons on his purple shirt underneath the suit jacket were straining to be unbuttoned. She realized she was staring and shook her head out of its reverie. She then mentally scolded herself for thinking such a thing. _He probably has a girlfriend anyway, and who are you to think anyone could possibly get close to you in that way?_, she mused to herself.

John cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do as Evelyn mentally and silently berated herself, and Sherlock sat thinking, as he normally does.

"Well, I'll start packing my things then." He quickly exited the flat and bounced up the stairs to, what Evelyn was assuming, his bedroom. _Leaving me with the detective_, she sighed. She looked at him, and he didn't look like he was going to strike up a conversation anytime soon, so she sat in the armchair across from him, and revelled in the heat the fireplace was giving off.

She looked around a bit more at the homely flat, just enjoying being out of the cold of outside. She noticed a book resting on a small table next to her chair, titled _Crime and Punishment_. Evelyn glanced at Sherlock to see if he'd noticed her curiosity, but he was still in his dreamworld. She quietly picked it up, unable to resist the temptation, and simply sat staring at the old edition cover and yellowing pages in silent glee. Evelyn inhaled the musky scent of it, trying to preserve the memory of it in her mind. She ran her fingers along the edges of the softened paper and breathed deeply at the joy of holding a book in her hand after so long.

"You miss having the luxury of your books." A deep rumble coming from what she assumed was now just a statue of a man startled her and made her drop the book on the floor. Sherlock bent over slightly and picked it up.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you or touch your things without asking." She bit her lip; a nervous habit she's had since childhood. She looked up at him, and he simply handed it back to her. She took it gently, and gave him a small smile.

"You may borrow it, if you wish. You'll be staying here for quite a while, so you might as well get comfortable. Any of my books are at your disposal. And work on that unbearable stutter. If you can't speak intelligently I suggest you don't speak at all." He returned to staring into the fire.

"Thank you." She spoke softly, ignoring his last comment. He waved away her gratitude.

"Just keep away from my scientific equipment. As much as you would like to touch them, they are quite important to my experiments."

"That's alright with me. Any more boundaries I should be aware of?" Evelyn crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow, with a slight smirk.

Sherlock tilted his head, unamused, and squinted slightly at her. "Are you mocking me?"

She shrugged. "Go on."

He placed his hands in their "thinking" position, frowning somewhat. "Do not, under any circumstances, feel free to enter my room. The bathroom is free for your use, however, as there's only the one. Just don't clutter it up with any worthless products women tend to hoard. You may eat or store whatever you wish in the fridge, but just don't rearrange anything. I usually put certain body parts in certain places. You don't ever need to clean. Mrs. Hudson does that frequently enough, and she knows well enough by now not to move anything important in doing so."

Evelyn nodded once. "I... think I got all that. Just one question."

Sherlock raised a brow.

Her nose crinkled as she couldn't help but smile. "Body parts in the fridge?" She couldn't contain herself and broke out in peals of laughter. Sherlock soon joined in with low chuckles.

After taking a few deep breaths, Evelyn sighed. "As for storing anything, I really don't have anything to store." She tugged at the old military jacket and t-shirt beneath. "These are the only things I own. My bed consists of an old mattress I found in an alleyway and I manage to get whatever scraps of food I can."

He rested his hands on the arms of the chair. "That won't be an issue. I'll set up an account for you with all the money you need for the duration of your case."

Her eyes widened. "W-what?! No. I mean, no, I'm sorry but I can't accept that. I don't take charity lightly."

He shrugged. "Fine. We'll just see it as me paying you for helping me. Now what is John taking so long for?" He mumbled that last bit and looked at his phone.

She threw back her head and sighed in exasperation. This man was honestly impossible.

John came down with two cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other, full of various things. He set them down by the door and smiled at Evelyn.

"Well, I've cleared out all my stuff, so your room upstairs is nice and empty for you. Feel free to decorate it how you like. Sorry the duvet isn't very interesting. Just plain white. But... I guess it's better than you're used to." He gave a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

She smiled genuinely at him and stood. "No, it's fine. I'm sure it's perfect."

"There's a wardrobe for you up there, and a desk as well. The only loo is down here."

"So I've heard." She smiled.

John returned it and gave a short exhale of breath. "Well, if you don't need anything else, I guess I'll be heading back to Mary. Mrs. Hudson's just downstairs if you need anything, or if Sherlock proves too much to handle. I should know; it took me about a year to get used to his habits." Sherlock simply ignored his remark. Evelyn stood and gave him a brief hug.

"Thanks John. It really means a lot. Say hello to the missus for me." She repeated the words she spoke to him when they first said goodbye. He nodded, gathered his things, and was soon out of sight down the stairs.

Evelyn watched him go, then turned back to Sherlock, who hasn't moved a muscle. She stood awkwardly for a few moments before gathering up courage.

"May I use your shower?" Evelyn asked hesitantly, expecting some backlash for some reason, and shrinking a bit. It was already growing dark, and she usually slept earlier than most people so she could wake up earlier in the morning. There was also not much to do when you're living day to day on the streets. She honestly just wanted to shower and get some rest, after the whole day's events.

"Yes. The towels are in the cupboard in the restroom, as well as soaps and such. I'm afraid you'll have to borrow my shampoo until you can get what you need."

She mumbled a "thank you" and tried not to run to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, thought twice, then locked it and the other opaque door leading to Sherlock's bedroom. It was actually quite nice. The floor was white tile, and there was an ivory, claw-footed tub that also had a shower head and curtain, like something out of a cartoon, but much more beautiful in reality. There was a sink on one wall with a simple mirror cabinet, and a plain toilet. A small shelf and cupboard were next to the shower. Evelyn pulled open the door on the cupboard and found soft plushy towels, which made her just want to touch them over and over again.

She pulled out one and set it in the towel rack, within close reach from the shower. She then began to strip, taking off her grimy clothes layer by layer, realizing she should remember to ask if there's a washer and dryer in the building. She released her hair from the messy bun she stuck it up with that morning, after luckily finding a hair band on the ground that someone had probably dropped. She turned on the water after figuring out how, and waited for it to get warm. Evelyn glanced at herself in the mirror and gasped slightly, unaware of how different she'd become.

Her once well-rounded face has become sharp and defined from running and the occasional fight, and dirt painted her cheeks. Her hair was gross and tangled, with her only shower being running it under someone's outside faucet at night with some cheap soap she picked up at the shop. The rest of her body was just as dirty, and she couldn't wait to get clean. She tested the water with her hand before stepping under the steaming water. Her muscles instantly relaxed, and she almost cried with the joy of hot water washing her worries down the drain. There was a small shelf attached to the wall right next to the tub with soap, shampoo, and a loofah. She poured a glob of body wash gel onto it and ran it under the water until it was bubbly, before giving it a sniff. The scent of pomegranate and honey permeated her nostrils, and she breathed deeply.

Without further ado, she began to clean herself of dirt, and with it all her stress. Evelyn made sure to scrub her face and some of the more stubborn areas of grime. She was sure to be careful around her wounds, cleaning them gently with soap and water. Once the water down the drain ran clear, she started on her hair, wetting it and gently trying to detangle some of the large knots. She grabbed the shampoo and worked it into her hair, lathering it up and then rinsing it. She repeated this twice to make sure she cleaned it thoroughly. She saw a bottle of conditioner on the shelf, and ran that through her hair, waited a bit, then rinsed again. With a soft sigh of sadness she turned off the water and plucked the towel from its rack and running it through her sopping strands, squeezing tightly, before wrapping it around her body.

She walked over to the mirror that doubled as another cupboard, and grinned when she found a comb. She spent a few minutes smoothing out the trickier knots she couldn't detangle before. She didn't see a hair dryer anywhere, so she just shrugged and left her wet curls as they were. She turned to pick up her filthy clothes when she froze. She realized with a curse she couldn't put back on her old clothes and get dirty again, and she hadn't thought of asking for clean clothes. She cursed repeatedly and shook her head frantically, not knowing what to do. _God, I am so out of tune with social interaction. I am acting like a complete coward_, she thought broodingly. She took a deep breath and marched over to the door, wrapping the towel more securely around herself but still felt naked. That's when she noticed a hook on the back of the door, with a silk blue dressing gown draped on it.

_Well, it's better than this_, she looked down at her thighs peeking out from under the towel. She threw the towel off herself and quickly put on the soft gown, tying it tightly around her waist. She bunched up her clothes and stuffed them under her arm, before slowly turning the doorknob and cracking open the door. Down the hall she could now hear a few glass and metallic sounding clicks that reminded her of the beakers and things she used to work around, and figured Sherlock was probably back to his experiments. She opened the door wider and quietly stepped into the hallway. She took her time walking, her feet softly padding against the wooden floors, until she finally was out in the open.

Sherlock was staring into his microscope and adjusting the knobs on each side to focus the image he was gazing at. He apparently didn't hear her walk in, or chose to ignore her, because he didn't look up. She cleared her throat and he still didn't respond, so she did it louder, with the same result. She did it again, obnoxiously loud this time.

"If you're sick, I suggest you get some cough medicine quickly, because I absolutely cannot focus if you're going to be making so much noise."

She crossed her arms. "I'm trying to get your attention, idiot." With that comment, he snapped his head towards her, and his face turned from a sneer into one of shock and recognition of some sort, but it flashed by for only a millisecond. She wondered what he could possible recognize in how she looks now, like a woman with dark wet hair has stood around in his dressing gown recently. She mentally snorted.

"What?" He spoke sharply, annoyed.

"I... don't have anything to sleep in." She looked at the ground.

His voice softened slightly. "Right. I'll... get you something." He stood and walked past her to his bedroom, and his warmth made her shiver for some reason. She stood there for a moment, before he came back with a black dress shirt.

"Will this suffice?" He held it out to her, and she took it.

"Yes, thank you." She backed up a few steps, towards the door. "I'll return this tomorrow," she tugged at the dressing gown. "I'll just be off to bed, then. Good night."

"Good night, Evelyn."

She took her leave quickly and practically power-walked to her room upstairs. It was plain and simple, which Evelyn liked about it. What John said was true, there was a black wardrobe and matching desk occupying one wall, and a queen bed with a thick white duvet on it. She dropped her clothes on the desk chair and ran her hand along the covers, amazed at the quality. She removed the silk gown grudgingly, but immediately perked up when she put on the dress shirt. It's quality was much like everything else in this place, and made Evelyn feel like she shouldn't wear it or she would dirty it somehow. She observed that it smelled like he did, like shampoo, chemicals, a slight scent of cigarettes, and manly musk. She stood inhaling for a few moments before realizing what she was doing and frowned.

Evelyn slowly got into bed, savoring the feel of the soft sheets on her skin. When her head hit the pillow, she was overcome with relief at what the future could hold, but also some anxiousness. She knew Sherlock and John would help her, and that she could definitely trust them. Evelyn just wanted this whole mess to be sorted out, so she could come out of the shadows and finally live her life how she wanted. _Thank you... whomever_, she whispered to some all-powerful being that she wasn't sure could hear her. Then, she slowly drifted into a deep, satisfying sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry everyone I know this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the others but I promise the next one is a longer chapter, so hopefully that'll make up for it! Thanks &amp; enjoy, my lovelies!**

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Evelyn awoke to the sunlight softly streaming through the window. She yawned and stretched satisfyingly, hearing a few bones popping. She wondered what time it was and got out of bed slowly. The black dress shirt was a bit crumpled and creases littered the front. She wandered over to her dirty clothes pile resting on her chair whilst reminding herself to try to find a washer and dryer, when she froze in her tracks. The dirty pile was gone. She spun around, searching for it. _What the-_, she started, but before she could finish her thought, the landlady barged in her room.

"Good morning, dear! You slept quite a while; it's almost ten o'clock!" Mrs. Hudson chatted with her and began making her bed while Evelyn just stood there, dumbfounded. She tugged at the shirt to try to cover herself a bit more. She had had to go to bed without knickers as hers were dirty.

Mrs. Hudson noticed and giggled like a schoolgirl. "Oh, there's no need for that, hun. We're all girls here! I took the liberty of washing your clothes while you were sleeping." On cue, she brought a pile of Evelyn's clean clothes out from behind her back and presented them to her. "Here you are. I've also made a bit of breakfast for you down in my flat, if you'll have my company. I'll just leave you to get dressed." She gave a small smile and went downstairs.

Evelyn was still in a bit of shock. Why were so many people being kind to her? It either must be a bit of good luck, or an intervention from something more powerful, she reasoned. Either way, she wasn't going to pass this up.

She threw on her clothes, and was amazed to find some of the larger holes in them had been sewed up with thread. Even the closest possession she had that tied to her family, her father's old military jacket, looked almost new. Tears welled up in Evelyn's eyes, but she brushed them away before they could fall. She had never been very cathartic in the past and she wasn't going to start now.

She folded the dress shirt and grabbed the silk dressing gown draped over the desk chair and bounced down the stairs. The door to Sherlock's flat was closed and she could hear no sound coming from the other side of it. She wanted to return his things before going down to Mrs. Hudson's, so she knocked quietly and walked inside. He was sitting in his chair again, clad in pajamas and another dressing gown, this one maroon but also silk. His eyes were closed and he had his hands to his mouth. Evelyn figured he was thinking again, and didn't want to interrupt him, so she placed his clothes on the coffee table, and was about to depart when he spoke.

"Husband and wife. Husband leaves to pursue his secret lover on a date. Wife locks all doors and goes to bed. Husband comes home to find two bullet holes in her head. No sign of break in. No weapon. Only piece of evidence found was a pot lying on the floor with her blood on it, and a thin pillow that had gone missing, but no traces of any other evidence. Exit wounds through her head, but no holes in any wall where they should have been. The window was open, but no neighbors reported hearing a sound. So, the question is, how did it happen?" He opened his eyes slowly to look into her confused ones.

"Excuse me?"

He stands quickly. "Oh, come on, you've heard scenarios like this millions of times during your last employment. How. Did. It. Happen?" His eyes bore into hers and he came closer, creeping over excitedly with the most insane look of intrigue on his face. She stood her ground this time, not cringing or withdrawing.

She clenched her teeth. "I don't do that anymore. Figure it out yourself."

He waved his hand in the air. "Oh, I already have. About two hours after I observed the crime scene, to be exact. But, if you're going to assist me on this case, I must to know if you're capable."

She sighed. "Err... I don't know."

"Come on! Think! Put that void mind of yours to use and just think!"

She glared at him, and he did it right back, and for a moment they were in a silent battle, until she gave up and closed her eyes, repeating his words in her mind. She searched and searched through possibilities, reviewing every word Sherlock uttered, when suddenly everything clicked in her mind. She gasped and stumbled backwards a bit at the force of which the answer popped into her mind. Her mind hadn't been used for this in many years, but obviously her skills were still sharp, just lingering in the back of her mind like a leopard in the shadows. He stared at her like she was a puzzle, with a mix of curiosity and wonder.

"I-I can see it! How it happened!" She gasped.

"Yes, go on." He had a tight grip on her arms, partially from trying to keep her upright and partly from excitement.

"The killer... shot her once...used the pillow to muffle the sound, and the pan to catch the bullet to leave no holes... But..." She stopped, her eyes frantic now.

"Yes, yes." He encouraged, and emphasized each word with a shake, leaning in.

"It ricocheted... went through her head a second time... and out the window!" She laughed shortly and grinned at him, and he smiled back. His blue-green eyes were large and glanced at each one of hers.

"Perfect." He breathed, and she felt the warm air hit her lips. Without thinking, she licked them, and his gaze flickered there for a millisecond. Then his warmth was gone, and he was across the room. He began shuffling through random papers for seemingly no reason.

"Good, good. You're qualified to help with the case. I put some money in an account for you, so you should go get your things now. Here's the card." He handed her a new card and turned away, ignoring her completely. She stood there for a moment, confused at his sudden detachment. One second Sherlock was excited, the next he was cold. She didn't understand it. Evelyn thought she was getting somewhere with him, but suddenly it all went downhill. She didn't know what to do, so she did what she always did, and left.

She went to Mrs. Hudson's door and knocked quietly. The old lady answered with a grin.

"Come in, sweetie. The water's just boiled and the biscuits are fresh out of the oven!" She turned and walked towards what seemed to be the kitchen. Everything in the flat looked homey and comfortable, like a cliché "grandmother's house". Evelyn loved it.

When she walked into the kitchen, the landlady gestured for her to sit down at the plain table. Evelyn did so, and was brought a plate of homemade jammy dodgers, a plate of eggs and sausage, and two cups of tea. Evelyn licked her lips and began stuffing her mouth, excited for a hot meal.

She was suddenly reminded of her father, who would often get up early on Saturday mornings just to make her breakfast, a traditional U.S. meal consisting of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He would always make funny shapes out of the pancake batter, like writing her name or an animal, and she'd giggle and hug him. He would ruffle her hair and say, "_I love you more than anything in the world"_.

She jumped as she felt a hand on her arm, and was back in the kitchen of Mrs. Hudson. The old woman was looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn put on a smile as fake as a halloween mask. "Yeah, I'm fine! Just thinking!"

The landlady looked doubtful, but sat down and began preparing her tea, adding a lump of sugar and some cream. Evelyn just added two lumps of sugar and took a few sips, savoring it.

The woman across from her clapped and grinned. "So! Have you got a boyfriend or anything?"

Evelyn choked, and sat coughing for a few moment, before staring at Mrs. Hudson, agape. "Excuse me? No! I don't have a-a _boyfriend_!"

"Well why not? You're pretty enough! I'm sure any guy would be lucky to have you!"

Evelyn sighed and took a sip of tea, looking sideways. "That's... not really my area..."

"Oh, you sound just like Sherlock! After less than one day. Hm!"

Evelyn perked up a bit at that, but kept her poker face and tried to look uninterested.

"Sherlock doesn't have a girlfriend? Why not?" She sipped.

"Oh you'll understand sure enough, I'm sure, living with him now and all. He's very absorbed in his work. He often doesn't eat, sleep, or talk for days on end when he's focused on a case! He sees his body as just transportation for his mind, believe it or not, and if anything takes away from that, he's just not interested. I guess that includes relationships, too. He's lived with me for years and not once have I seen him with a girl."

Evelyn was beginning to understand why he was so distant towards her.

"That must be lonely." She observed.

She nodded. "He seemed that way, when I first met him. He helped me convict my husband of murder. He seemed sad, though he tried his damnest not to show it, if you'll excuse my language. But then he moved in here with John, and he started to get better. Well, I mean he's still cold and rude, but you can tell he's happier since they became friends. They're really like two halves, him and John."

"You'd think that since John found someone, Sherlock would, wouldn't you?"

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "I honestly can't see him being with anyone, unless he could clone himself." She chuckled some more.

Evelyn just stared absentmindedly at her plate. If he was so asexual as Mrs. Hudson seemed to say, why was he so antsy around her? Every time they were close to sharing even a sliver of what could be a moment, he would freeze and back off, like he was close to breaking some inner rule with himself. She hadn't been around him long enough to prove Mrs. Hudson's words true, but she was damn well going to eventually.

Evelyn had always been somewhat sapiosexual since college, when the few guys she met seemed uninteresting and dimwitted. That caused her to move upwards in the line of work involving intelligence, when the FBI crowd caught her eye. The constant mystery and skill required for almost every case she came across intrigued her, as well as her coworkers. Of course, she could only assist so much being just a sketch artist, often having to resolve problems in her own mind, unable to throw her opinion in the fire of unanswered questions. Sherlock was without a doubt the most intelligent person she's ever come across, and it was as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water after being stranded in the desert for a year. Yes, he was stand-offish and could be a prick sometimes, but she knew everyone had that side, and it couldn't be as dark as she's been in the past. He was like the ultimate mystery to her, like the final chemical formula needed to complete the puzzle of life. She wanted to know so much more about him, and felt every day would be a new adventure.

On the other hand, now was definitely not the time to get attached to anything or anyone. These were hard times, and if she was going to attempt what she thinks she was, a relationship was the complete opposite of priority. She needed to focus all her skills and strength into the case at hand, and she needed Sherlock as an asset more than anything else. Evelyn knew exactly what people who got too close to her did: run. She just couldn't risk losing him now, and she feared diving heart-first into something that big would ruin everything. She wasn't trying to think selfishly, but rationally, as that seemed to be the only thing that had kept her alive this long.

She made her decision and stood. Evelyn thanked the kind woman and, with a smile, took her leave. She needed to purchase some things, if she was going to settle in a somewhat-permanent residence. She left 221B with a sharp intake of air. It seemed to be getting colder each day as winter approached, and the London weather didn't help much. She added a warm coat to her mental list, and continued walking down the street, as one with the city as she's ever been.

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**A/N Yeah filler filler filler. Sorry yo, every story's gotta have some.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Let me just admit this now and get it over with. No, I do not live in the UK, so if any of this seems iffy to you British, sorry loves. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

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Evelyn stopped by a store she used to pass by almost every day: M&amp;S. It contained mostly clothes and some home goods. She went inside clean and confident, no longer afraid of being shunned away by store clerks that deemed her too "dirty and suspicious", as they had put it in the past. She browsed the store for a little while, finding the essentials she needed before anything else. She grabbed body wash, shampoo and conditioner, dental things, and other lady products. Next came some other much needed items, such as new knickers and a pair of good shoes, as hers were beginning to wear.

As the basket began to fill, she was suddenly struck with the worry of not having enough money on the card to pay for it. She fiddled with her hands in nervousness when she approached the nearest cashier, a man in his twenties, who flashed her a smile. She smiled back and handed him the card after he scanned everything. He swiped it, and asked her to sign a merchant copy of the receipt, which she did. Her copy had the total left on her card, and she gasped.

"Everything all right, miss?" The clerk asked. She nodded but didn't look at him, and continued staring at the receipt in shock. Evelyn collected her bags and left the store, not looking up.

"_What. The. Hell._" She mumbled. £_5,000!_, she practically screamed in her head. She was going back to 221B as soon as possible and giving him back the card, whether he wanted it or not. This type of debt she would owe Sherlock for was absolutely not in the picture. Not part of the deal.

She walked quickly to the flat with such a look on her face that people in the street hurriedly got out of her way. She stomped up the stairs and walked in, dropping her bags on the floor with a huff.

"_Sherlock Holmes._" She called out menacingly. He came around the corner casually, with a file in his hands. She marched up to him, and forcefully took his free hand and slapped the card in it.

"Look, I didn't want to have this in the first place, but you forced it on me. Now I find out there's fucking _five thousand pounds_ on it! So you're going to take this without argument, because I'm not having that kind of debt hanging over my head!" She glared at him for good measure.

He raised a brow and gave her a smirk. "Has anyone informed you on how persistent you can be?"

"At least I don't insult people within twenty seconds of meeting them." She shot back.

He put the card on the kitchen table next to him. "I gave you the card to survive on for however long your case takes. Money is no object to me; I receive plenty of 'initiative' for the jobs I do, and the only reason it's in my bank account is that John is concerned I'll get evicted otherwise, but it really means neither here nor there to me. If you don't wish to use all of it, fine. Whatever you decide, your 'debt' will be nonexistent, as I'm sure the enjoyment of such a case will far exceed any money paid to me."

Evelyn opened her mouth, then closed it again. As per usual, Sherlock stumped her, and she didn't have a quick-witted response. It seems she's lost yet another argument.

She looked up at him, puzzled. "You really get your kicks doing this stuff, huh?"

He squinted slightly. "As much of slang as you've put it in, yes. My work is everything. Speaking of work, I had my hacker Wiggins procure your file." He waved the file in the air.

Evelyn gulped but didn't let her face show anything. "Oh? And?"

He tossed the file on the table, spilling its contents. Of which were... blank pages.

He looked at her scrutinizingly. "Nothing. Even the best hacker in London, possibly the whole United Kingdom, could not find a single trace of you, Evelyn."

She bit her lip. "Well... that's a bit odd, wouldn't you say?" She gave a little nervous laugh. He moved closer, towering over her.

"Do not toy with me, Evelyn. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases; both ends is too much work. Tell me what you are hiding."

"Uhh... I-I..." Evelyn frantically looked around the room, then sighed and closed her eyes. "Fine. I'll tell you. I... wasn't exactly telling the truth when I said I was just a sketch artist."

"But your hands have the exact muscular anomalies that occur in people whom have experience with drawing or artwork."

"Yes, yes, you're not wrong. I just- I was _more_ than just that. I also did a few 'special' jobs for the guys higher up in the FBI corporate ladder."

"You're a special agent. Of course. You have the signs of one trained in combat. How did I not see it?" He hissed.

"_Was_ a special agent. Now I'm still on the run and everything, and I'm pretty sure the British government is looking for me, too. But, when I found the new information from my father... I also happened to... have my friend hack into the FBI's database and discover they were planning to use the weapon blueprints as a military advancement. So, I ran."

He sighed. "Yes, as most would do. You came to London because of it's large population looking for obscurity. It seems you are far from that now."

She looked sideways. "Yeah..."

"But there's one thing I'm unsure of." He paused, looking at her quizzically. "You lied about receiving a jobseeker's allowance from the government, as you obviously are not in any records. Why? Do you steal money and your petty morality prevented you from telling me the truth?"

She was taken aback that he remembered her saying that. "No, I don't steal... I... I have a friend- the one who hacked into the FBI database for me... he sends me money every so often. But he has to remain a secret, or else... something will happen to him." She pleaded Sherlock with her eyes.

"Him?" His eyebrow raised.

"Yes." She didn't understand why that mattered.

"How does he send you money? The government could track postage as well."

Evelyn looked away. "I have... connections. Nothing important." There was a long pause.

"Well, thankfully you ended up in the right hands." He stood up a little straighter.

"About that, what exactly are you planning to do? We can't exactly waltz into the Ministry of Defence building." She put a hand on her hip.

He smiled. "I don't mean to sound cliché, but that's exactly what we're going to do."

"That was, in fact, definitely a cliché. I want you to help me, not get me killed quicker."

He rolled his eyes. "I have a plan, of course. You will use a fake ID card to get in, and then use those skills you acquired in the FBI to find the files. Wiggins can easily hack the building to get their location.."

She crossed her arms. "Simple as that? What will you be doing?"

He raised a brow mysteriously. "I'll be doing a little recon myself. Nothing you need worry about."

"You just made that ten times more suspicious sounding than if you just didn't answer."

"I've been told I'm a bit on the dramatic side." He said with an overly done wave of the hand. Evelyn giggled. They stood smiling at each other for a moment, until he broke eye contact.

"So I'm assuming that's all you needed?" He backed away towards the kitchen and gathered up her file as he spoke.

"Um... yes, thanks." She said, disappointed yet again. "I'll be upstairs." She picked up her purchases and went to leave.

"Evelyn?" Sherlock's deep rumble caused her to turn quickly, just in time to catch a large bag that had the name of a local store printed all over it. She gave him a questioning look, and he smirked.

"You'll need something to wear for the mission. You're a size 6, correct?" He turned away and was out of sight. Evelyn glanced at the bag, but couldn't make out its contents.

She hurried upstairs and unpacked her items, putting things away properly and purposely avoiding the strange bag on her bed. Finally, when she could avoid it no longer, she approached it and tore it open. Inside was a very clean cut woman's suit. It included a suit jacket, matching skirt, patterned blouse, and even some pantyhose and heels. She cringed at the prospect of heels as she always had, because of her considerably tall height of 5'8'', but couldn't resist a smile at the thought of Sherlock picking out pantyhose.

She decided against trying it on, as she trusted Sherlock, and didn't feel like putting on the heels. She instead decided to meditate a bit, although it was a practice she was long out of the habit of, but one that often used to help her focus more on a mission. She sat with her legs crossed, with each foot resting on top the opposite thigh and her hands resting on her knees. She closed her eyes and centered herself, thinking only of her breathing techniques and the mission itself. She stayed like that until the interruption of her stomach growling threw her out of her reverie.

Evelyn got up slowly and stretched, aiming her arms toward the ceiling. She crept down the stairs hesitantly, not wanting to disturb Sherlock again. She opened his door, and he was typing away on a laptop.

"Um... Sherlock? I was wondering-"

"You're hungry. There's a menu for a chinese take-out place just down the road on the fridge. Order me lo mein with pork. Get whatever you like and use my card." He threw it to her with amazing accuracy without looking up from the screen. "Oh, and don't forget egg rolls." He continued typing.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, your majesty." She said under her breath.

"You are mistaking me for my brother, whom has a 'minor position' in the government, as he is so apt to remind us all, when in fact he is the government itself." He smirked without looking at her. Evelyn blushed and went into the kitchen, wondering how he could possibly hear so well.

She called the restaurant and ordered their food, hardly understanding the thick accent of the man on the other end of the phone. After she hung up, she sat down in the plump, red chair by the roaring fire, and relaxed. She was looking around the room, when she spotted a violin resting atop a music stand.

"You play the violin?" She asked him.

He stopped typing. "Yes, as if that wasn't fairly obvious by the presence of the instrument itself."

"Can I hear?"

"If you couldn't tell, I'm a bit busy."

"Please?" She put as much plea in her voice as possible. He sighed and got up a bit forcefully, and walked over to the stand, picking up the maple violin in one hand and bow in the other.

"Any particular requests?" He said sarcastically, with a twitch of his brow.

"Anything will do." She sat back with a smirk.

He ignored her and put bow to strings, tuning it quickly. Then, he got out some sheet music and began to play. Her mouth fell open in shock, and she could tell he knew it, by the prideful twinge of a smile breaking his character. He moved gracefully, swaying with the rise and fall of each note, as his long fingers worked the strings expertly. The song was saccharine then energetic. Each crescendo had Evelyn on the edge of her seat and each soft part formed the sadness in her face. It was beautiful and accurately portrayed, and reminded her of a brighter time when her mother played the violin for her. It brought tears to her eyes, which she staunched the flow of quickly.

He finished, and looked at her. She was at a loss for words for a moment.

"That... that was beautiful, Sherlock. Did you compose that?"

"Yes. My mother wishes I'd pursued music as a career instead of crime-solving, and she reminds me every time we meet."

"I can see why." Once again, the silence permeated the room as they gazed at each other, daring one another to make the first move. Like a mental game of chess that's reached a stalemate.

And once again, Sherlock draws. "I believe our order is ready by now. You should go pick it up." He plopped down in his usual chair by the fire. "Make sure they didn't forget the egg rolls."

She sighed and walked out, shoulders drooping. Her coat was hanging to a coat rack by the exit, and she shrugged it on before facing the coldness. She traipsed down a couple blocks until she found the restaurant, and picked up their food with little hassle, as they seemed to know Sherlock fairly well and even gave her an extra egg roll for him. She was on her way back, bag of goodies in hand, when she felt the same tingling sensation on the back of her neck as she did with Wiggins when he was following her. She got nervous and picked up the pace, telling herself there were only three more blocks to go.

She was about to turn the corner onto her street when a large man came out of nowhere in front of her and shoved her into an alleyway. She dropped the food and tried to scream, but the man who was following her quieted her with a punch to her mouth. She was dazed and bleeding from her cut lip before her instincts kicked in, and she sent the first one sprawling with a well-aimed kick to the bollocks and nose. The second caught her from behind, but she threw him over herself with precision. Suddenly a third one, who must have been monitoring from a close distance, pushed her up against the rough brick wall, scraping her back, to which she cried out. He had her by the throat and got in a few hits before she got free and gladly knocked him unconscious. She went to the first who was still clutching his groin and moaning, and grabbed him roughly by the collar.

"_Who the fuck sent you?_" She demanded with a low, dangerous voice. He shook his head, and she placed her thumb on a pressure point in his neck that she knew would cause excruciating pain. He threw open his mouth in a silent scream and whimpered when she released it.

"You _better_ answer me you bastard." She spat out blood next to him in a red spray.

"M-my boss!" He choked.

"_Don't play coy with me!_ I want a name!" She hissed in his ear.

"Cromwell! It was Cromwell! Please let me go!" Like that name meant anything to her. She'd at least bring it up with Sherlock.

"Tell your_ boss_ the next time he sends someone, I'll kill them." With that final note, she swung her hand back, and brought it down with alarming force, quieting his groans quickly.

She stood tentatively and gasped, clutching her back in pain. Evelyn was sure the brick did some damage, and she was not looking forward to the cleanup. She picked up the bag of food, thankfully not knocked over somehow, and used some complimentary napkins to staunch the flow of blood coming from her nose and mouth. She began limping back, grateful she was so close, but very cynical about it.

She walked in the door, and grimaced as she carefully removed her jacket. She was slow up the stairs, and reached the top when Sherlock's door flew open and the man himself stood in the doorway.

"What took so long-" He stopped when he saw her, and scanned over her before scowling. "I hope those three men look much worse than you." He clenched his fists. "If not, I might just have to go fix that."

"Trust me they do." She smiled, then winced slightly when she moved a wrong way. She held up the bag. "I got the egg rolls." She gave a half-hearted smirk.

He disappeared quickly down the hallway into the bathroom, and she got out plates and silverware for their feast, unsure of why he left when there was good food here waiting for him. He came out of the bathroom with an assortment of supplies, including bandages and alcohol.

"What's that for?" She said apprehensively. John she was fine with fixing her up, but she was pretty sure Sherlock didn't have a medical degree, and it would be embarrassing. That realization made her blink and shake her head. What was she, a young schoolgirl?

"Our mission takes place in a matter of days. I can't have you shirking your duty if you're injured. Remove your shirt."

Her eyes widened. "W-what?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's obvious you sustained a back wound. Probably from your attacker pushing you against a brick wall. Now remove. Your. Shirt." He glared at her, and she glared right back, before turning around and lifting up her shirt over her head cautiously, leaving her in just her bra. In Sherlock's kitchen.

He saw her timidness and scoffed. "Please. It is simply anatomy." He wet a cotton ball in alcohol and pressed it against one of the larger cuts, making her suck in a sharp breath and jerk in pain.

He paused, then swiped more gently. "I apologize." She relaxed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sharp stings by biting her tongue. He was surprisingly adaptive to one's reactions, and when he blew a cool breath to ease her burning skin, she shivered and sighed in pleasure. He placed a few bandages here and there with a healing salve on them. For a moment, there was silence, and she refused to turn and look at him for fear of something deep in the back of her mind. She felt like a live wire, having no clue what he was doing or thinking behind her, and not wanting to know at the same time.

He cleared his throat. "You can put back on your shirt now. The bandages will suffice." She did as she was told, and turned around to face him finally after she was finished. He was still standing there, staring at her with his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and deep thought. He looked down a moment and soaked another cotton ball in alcohol and brought it to her lip. It stung but she ignored it and focused instead on the scent of _him_ surrounding her senses. Like peppermint toothpaste and tobacco and musk. It made her slightly dizzy, which he noticed as he gripped her arm to steady her.

"Are you all right? Are you in a state of shock?" He leaned in closer and peered into her eyes for any dilation or lacklusterness, and her breath hitched when she looked down at his perfect cupid's bow. She couldn't help it. His breath was condensing on her lips, and she could taste him, and she just couldn't help it. She leaned forward and collided her lips with his, squeezing her eyes shut.

It was like kissing a statue. He froze and didn't move at all, forward or away. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she would see. His eyes were on hers, not exactly disgusted, thank God. She pulled back quickly and her lips were parted in shock. He stared at her lips with a bit of surprise but also intrigue, like he just discovered some new chemical reaction.

She spoke first. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't-" She trailed off.

He snapped out of his reverie and was back to being cool and collected. "Evelyn, I must make myself clear. You may live here for now, but I am simply helping you with your case. I do not associate myself with distractions of physical nature because I pride myself on unallowing such sentiments to muddle my brain. I consider myself married to my work, and nothing is ever going to change that."

Her face was burning as she looked everywhere but him, and she forced herself not to let her eyes water with disappointment and embarrassment.

"I-I understand. Forget anything happened." She jumped off the table she was sitting on and quickly put her unopened food in the fridge. He was still standing still, not moving, but not looking at her either. She opened the door from the kitchen, and turned to his statuesque frame.

"By the way, one of the men said the person who sent them was named Cromwell. You should probably look into that." He didn't answer her, so she ran out up the stairs like she was on fire and the only source of water was in her room.

She got inside and closed the door, before beginning to pace around in a frustrated state. "Dammit!" She kicked her wardrobe. "Why do you always have to fuck everything up, Evelyn?! You can't just stay away from everyone and live your own life! You have to go and drag your feelings into this and it'll only weigh you down like it always does!" She groaned and flopped down on the bed.

She rubbed her face with her hands and put them behind her head.

"Why... why do you ruin every good thing that happens to you?" She whimpered.

Evelyn knew Sherlock was close to being her friend, and now they have to start back at square one because she was the awkward fuck-up like she has always been. The only thing she was ever good at was drawing and staying alive. But when it came to relationships, even friendships, hoo-boy, she was like a six-year-old who didn't know putting your hand on the hot stove would burn.

She wondered what her life might have been like if she had just turned her back on doing "the right thing" and just gave the FBI the blueprints. Her life would be a whole lot better and, hell, she might have even been rich by now. But no. She shook those thoughts away. She did what she had to do, and paying the price for it was needed to keep the world in one piece. Whether that piece was cracked before she even touched it was something else entirely out of her hands.

Her thoughts drifted to Sherlock. He was so...different to her. He drew her in like candy to a child. She wasn't sure whether the feelings were innocent or knowing he was untouchable. She always did have a swell knack for choosing guys. She got her first boyfriend when she was fourteen, and he was a sixteen-year-old with a sweet disposition and charming smile. That is until he tried to force her into sex and she knocked his teeth in. Evelyn smiled as she remembered he had to go get his pictures done without his two front teeth. Her second boyfriend, come eight years later, was about her age, and he had been caring and loving as anyone. She snorted as she remembered he was the same way to his other two girlfriends. And that's it. The only boyfriends she's ever had.

She knew Sherlock was not like them. His mind drew him to her at first, as she's sure it's done to a lot of others. But she felt like she's seen something beyond that, something that excites her curiosity. Evelyn felt like there's another side to him that he tries his hardest to shove under his genius. There's something else, a kind of hovering sadness in his eyes that triggers her sympathy and makes her just want to make him understand that she's been there too, and he could depend on her for anything. She was so damn sure she saw sentiment somewhere in his eyes a couple of times he looked at her, like really _looked_. But he squashes it so quickly, she's unsure if it was even there.

Now things are awkward, and Evelyn determinedly decided she's just going to see how he reacts, and act as if nothing happened, and she's uninterested. Maybe he'll come around again. And if not, she can always go back onto the streets. Where she'd be alone, but her heart protected.

She cringed when she recalled the torment she felt when she was rejected so many times. From her foster parents, all five pairs of them, after her parents died. They would welcome her at first, then see how intelligent and independent she was, and treat her like a freak. From her boyfriends as well, when the first had called her, if she could recall, an "uptight, ugly bitch" and the second telling her she was worthless. She jerked in pain remembering all those abuses.

But being alone guaranteed her safety and emotional well-being, even though it was lonely and not exactly the life she imagined for herself. She knew she couldn't lie to herself, though, and felt like she needed company. Someone to share her joys and woes, and one whom she could trust and trust her in return. But of course, being who she is and who she was, there's a very slim possibility of that happening.

Evelyn thought maybe Sherlock was like her. Calculating and tough on the outside, with hints of madness and deep emotion on the inside. Maybe he is, but he obviously does not feel the same way for her as she does for him, and that was the end of it. She'd keep going for the sake of herself, and no one else. Like she always had. She sighed and groaned, then got up to go take a shower.

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**A/N There it is. Things are heating up a bit, eh? *wink* heheheh I'm so sorry...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hello hello! Back again with a new chapter! Thank you all who have taken the time to read my story. I really appreciate it! Enjoy the next chapter, lovelies!**

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She made sure she actually got clothes this time, and set as straight and normal a face as she could make before heading downstairs. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and Evelyn sighed in relief. She headed towards the bathroom and started the water, stripped, then stepped under the hot stream. Her muscles relaxed, even though her unbandaged back stung with each drop. There was some red in the water and she winced at the sight. She washed herself nonetheless, ignoring the pain. After turning off the water and drying herself, she looked at herself in the mirror, and noticed that she looked much healthier now that she was fully clean.

She was humming a short tune she made up and towel-drying her hair with another towel around her body, when the bathroom door leading to Sherlock's bedroom flung open, and the man himself entered with wild eyes and was covered in spatters of blood. Evelyn shrieked at the sight and stumbled backwards, slipping on the tile and landing in an ungraceful heap on the floor. She groaned in pain and stared at Sherlock open-mouthed. He just looked down at her and frowned.

"I require a shower now." He shut the door behind him and began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing soft, pale skin beneath, which looked surprisingly toned. Evelyn closed her mouth with a pop and struggled to stand and cover her half-naked body at the same time.

"What- what are y-you doing?! I'm in here! Y-you can't... you can't just-" She stopped attempting to speak when his hands reached for his belt. Evelyn froze. She found herself unable to move, even though her mind was screaming at her to move, look away, or do _something_. But she couldn't. He dropped his trousers and pants in one swift move, and turned on the shower, stepping in and shutting the curtains.

Evelyn's body twitched and suddenly she found herself on the other side of the bathroom door, leaning against the hard wood with it shut behind her, and holding her clothes tight to her chest and panting heavily. Her face burned like never before, as she couldn't get imagery out of her mind of a certain someone's certain anatomy... NO! She groaned. Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and she was filled with anger. Without even thinking, she dropped her clothes and barged right back into the bathroom.

Sherlock was hidden behind the somewhat transparent curtain, so she marched over and yanked it back, looking into the surprised face of Sherlock. Shampoo was lathered in his hair, and Evelyn tried her hardest not to look anywhere except his eyes.

"How _dare you?!_" She exclaimed, poking a finger at his chest, at which he stared at in blank shock. "First you reject my affections, then you go and pull something like _this? _I am _not_ a _pawn_ to you, Sherlock! I will not let you toy with my emotions this way! I'd rather be living back on the streets with my life threatened before I let someone control me that way ever again! Do you understand me?!"

His face was completely taken aback, like no one had ever spoken to him like this before, and Evelyn's face softened a bit when she realized no one probably had. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from asserting herself. Sherlock cleared his throat, and Evelyn thought he was going to make some snark comeback, and she steeled herself for it. But she got something much different.

"...Yes." His voice was soft and low, but clear. Evelyn was now the one surprised, and she suddenly felt very exposed for the both of them, with the only thing preventing total nudity being her thin towel. She took a deep breath.

"Good." With as much dignity as she could manage, she stuck her chin out in false confidence and left the bathroom. As soon as she shut the door, she took a deep, almost painful, breath and began to gather her clothes. There went her plan to forego awkward exposed moments by putting on clothes in the bathroom. But she felt much better now that she's established some ground rules for her relationship (or whatever she'd call it) with Sherlock. Evelyn hopped up to her room and put on the comfortable pajamas, which was mainly just a large t-shirt and striped bottoms. Her stomach began growling, and she was more than ready for that Chinese now.

Coming down the stairs Evelyn walked into the warm flat, and got out a table setting for herself after retrieving her take-out from the fridge, purposefully not trying to notice any body parts that would throw off her appetite. She dumped the box's contents on the plate and opened the microwave, only to come face-to-face with a jar of eyeballs. She winced and took them out, replacing it with her dinner, and typing in a couple digits that she assumed would get the job done. After finding some silverware and a glass for water, the machine beeped and she took out her food. She burned her hand on the hot plate and cursed, before picking it up again a bit more gingerly and inhaling the delicious smell that made her mouth water.

She sat in the living room by the roaring fire, in John's chair. Evelyn grabbed her fork and took the first savory bite, causing her to moan a little in pure bliss. After that she dug in, practically licking the plate clean. She smiled and closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of a full stomach for once. Then she reluctantly got up and cleaned her dishes, putting them back where she found them, including the eyes back in the microwave with a roll of her own.

Afterwards, she didn't know really what to do with herself. Usually, living on the streets, at this time she would be finding some shelter for the night and tidying it up as much as was possible. She wasn't tired yet, so she went back into the living room, and spotted the old book she had favored over the others. Evelyn smiled and picked it up, curling back into the plush chair and picking up where she had left off. At that moment, she was just content to be where she was.

She had been reading for about an hour or two, when she heard the front door to the building slam and someone race up the stairs. She didn't know why, but she imagined the worst, and before the person could walk through the door, Evelyn had grabbed a knife that was stuck into the top of the fireplace and had it out in front of her in a defensive stance. Sherlock burst through the door and eyed her warily.

"Unless you're planning on using that, I suggest you put it back where you found it, before one of us ends up like my friend there." He arched a brow and nodded at the skull resting on top of the fireplace.

"Ha ha." She stabbed the blade back onto the mantle with a swift _chunk_. "I thought you were someone else."

"Who else would know of your whereabouts here?" He narrowed his eyes. "You didn't contact anyone, did you?"

She snorted. "No, I'm not stupid. And it's not like there's a queue of loved ones waiting at their phones for my call. I meant maybe another blundering idiot this 'Cromwell' seems so bent on sending after me." He seemed satiated.

"About the mission in a few days, I thought before we go barging into a highly guarded facility you might like to see how I work. There's a body that just came in down at St. Bart's morgue that has potential to be an interesting case. Care to join me?" He asked.

She smiled, very happy and surprised he was acting like his normal self again. "I'd love to. I just... need to get dressed." She looked down at her pajamas.

"Be downstairs in five minutes." He left with a whip of his coat.

She hurried upstairs and looked through her array of new clothing, and decided on comfortable. She put on jeans and a thick dark green sweater, one of which she bought for its durability and warm knit material. She had always been a practical girl, and never really cared much for the trends of the time. Evelyn also put on her new coat, and some wool socks and a nice pair of boots. The things she got were meant to last a long time, which is essential for anyone living without a home, as she well knew.

She didn't have time to contemplate her wardrobe choices long, and skipped downstairs, giving a passing acknowledgment to Mrs. Hudson, whom was watering the plant outside her flat. Evelyn bundled up her coat as she walked outside, seeing Sherlock standing by the curb with his hands behind his back. He saw her and called a cab with a raise of his long arm, and opened the door once one pulled up, letting her in first. The driver winked at her, and she looked at the floor self-consciously. Sherlock glared at the driver and told him their destination shortly, at which she smiled and focused her gaze out the window. London was beautiful, she had to admit, whether living on the street or in a warm flat.

They passed many people, and it made her wonder where they were going, if they were off to meet friends, family, or lovers. It made her kind of sad, as thoughts like that usually did, but she didn't dwell on it too much anymore. She had new people in her life, and hopefully that would make it okay. Maybe not great, but okay. She glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, and saw him doing the same as her: peering outside and thinking. He was always thinking.

They were in the cab for a short while, until they pulled up to a building with a few ambulances in front of it. She followed Sherlock out and he paid the cabbie, before they approached the entrance. She noticed some graffiti on the side of the building, and stopped completely when she read the words: "Sherlock Lives. Moriarty was real." She saw Sherlock hadn't halted to wait up for her, and she jogged to keep up.

"So who is Moriarty?" She asked, trying to match his long strides. He came to a complete standstill, and looked at her strangely.

"You saw that graffiti, didn't you." He sighed. "I'll... tell you another time." He walked on.

Well, that sure sparked her curiosity. She made sure to remember to remind him later, and followed him to the elevators, where he pushed the button to the basement. The drop of her stomach as the big metal box fell was one she hadn't felt in a long time, and she gripped the handle on the wall next to her. Evelyn was glad when it finally stopped, and they entered a long, white hallway leading to a pair of doors, with a plaque above titled: MORGUE.

A strong scent of formaldehyde wafted into her nose, and she breathed in the familiar smell deeply. To others it would put them off, but Evelyn knew it so well, it was like a twisted sort of home. They walked inside the brightly lit room, and at first saw no one occupying it. Just many sterile tools and silver tables. Evelyn frowned.

"Maybe no one's here?" She said, her voice echoing a little.

"There is, I made sure of it. Molly?" He called, and nothing happened, until Evelyn thought she heard faint tappings of light footsteps. From around a corner came a woman in a white lab coat. She was of medium height and very small, with chestnut brown hair put into a ponytail. Molly had small lips and big brown eyes that poured out compassion. She saw Sherlock and smiled a little nervously, and Evelyn noticed a small twinkle in her eye.

"Hello Sherlock. Here for Mr. Johnson, I suppose?" She turned her gaze to Evelyn and started, looking at her with confusion and a little bit of... _jealousy?_ Evelyn thought with a raise of her eyebrow. But the look flashed by in an instant, and then a warm smile was radiating off the woman.

"Who's this, Sherlock?" She asked timidly.

"This is my colleague, Evelyn. She's going to be working with me for a while, so I'm going to show her my methods. Evelyn, this is Molly." Evelyn nodded politely to Molly, whom shrank back with a small smile.

"Oh... well, the body's over here." She looked at the floor and walked the two around the corner she entered from, leading them to an autopsy table, where a large shape of a man was contained in a black body bag. Molly unzipped it and stood back to let them look. Sherlock leaned in and scanned over the dead man with sharp precision. Evelyn searched as well, though for what she had no idea. All she noticed is he was old with a receding hairline and wrinkles that preached his age was over fifty. His skin tone was grayish and Evelyn would have felt sick if not for the amount of times she'd seen the exact shade on countless others.

Sherlock glanced at her with interest. "Well? What can you deduce?"

She blinked. "What? I-I mean... he's old. Perhaps mid-fifties. Wasn't in very good shape. Um... I don't really know much about his circumstances..." She trailed off, feeling stupid when Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You see but you do not observe." Molly giggled at his comment, but calmed her expression when he glared at her, and Evelyn couldn't help but smile at her. She obviously knew him well, and although Sherlock tried to hide it, Evelyn could tell he enjoyed her company.

"Molly. The autopsy." He spoke shortly.

She nodded and cleared her throat. "Male by the name of Charlie Johnson. Age fifty-six. Had a bad case of Atherosclerosis, which led to aortic stenosis and his eventual heart attack. That's the cause of death. He also suffered from eccentric hypertrophy and that added to the overall effect. Would you like to hear the strange part? Though I'm sure you already know it, Sherlock." She spoke with newfound excitement, and Evelyn couldn't help but be impressed by her extensive knowledge of pathology. Probably one of the best she's met so far. Which is saying something for Evelyn.

He sighed. "Yes I do, but for the sake of Evelyn keeping up I suggest you continue." Evelyn glared at him, but listened attentively.

She ignored him. "This man was murdered." She paused for dramatic effect.

Evelyn was stumped. "Ok... how do you know that?"

Molly was only too happy to answer. "You see, Mr. Johnson here, aside from a few clogged arteries, had a perfectly healthy heart. I weighed it myself." She looked proud.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying he had a heart attack without cause to produce the attack? Then why did he have it?" She looked at Sherlock for answers.

He took a deep breath like it was such a burden to explain his genius to such vapid peasants. "If you look closely on the side of his right thigh you'll see an obvious red mark." Evelyn did as she was told, noticing the small bump.

Molly gazed at it with interest. "I didn't notice that during my autopsy."

"So what? It's probably a bump or something." Evelyn wasn't following his line of reasoning.

"Such vacant brains you all have. Must I explain everything?" He sighed dramatically again.

Evelyn growled. "Just explain the damn cause of death." He glanced at her with a scowl, but she noticed it was less harmful-looking than usual.

"It is not just a _bump._ It is an entrance wound, a puncture. Coming from a dart, but not just any dart, no." He smiled and seemed very excited, which Evelyn would have felt disgusted at if she were normal and didn't feel the same emotion in her blood. "This puncture came from only the most special of darts, of which is very rare poison created for specialized assassination. The poison is frozen into the small dart fired from a silent gun, and easily melts into the blood. It would induce the heart attack and the victim would fall to the floor dead in a matter of hours. Brilliant!" He grinned at Evelyn, and she couldn't help but grin back.

"That's amazing! How did you know that?" Evelyn asked.

He shrugged. "Came across it in secret file when I was hacking my brother's laptop. They had to test it sometime, and I suppose they found their lucky subject." He looked at the body. "The wound is very particular and only someone who knew what to look for could tell."

"Wow." Evelyn was speechless. "I knew you were intelligent, but that's taking it a bit further."

His eyes sparkled at her compliment, and his chin stuck out a little higher.

Molly spoke up. "He's usually like that." Evelyn glanced at the woman, and saw her staring at Sherlock longingly while he thought some more. Suddenly, Evelyn felt pity wash over her towards Molly. She obviously had deep feelings for him, and he blew her off like a leaf on his shoulder. Evelyn understood completely, and had a strange urge to want to get to know her better.

Sherlock stood up straight. "I've seen all I need to see. Send me a text if anything new comes into play, Molly. Back to Baker Street, Evelyn." He turned and walked swiftly out of the morgue, leaving the two women by themselves.

Evelyn frowned. "Well, that was rather rude not to say thank you."

Molly laughed a little halfheartedly. "Yes, he does that a lot. It doesn't matter, though. I'm happy to help."

Evelyn gazed at her sideways. "Does he know you love him?"

Molly blushed deep crimson but didn't deny the claim. "I-He... yes, I think so. And I know he could never feel that way for me because, well, he's Sherlock." She shrugged, but Evelyn didn't miss the sadness in her eyes.

"Hey Molly?"

Molly looked up at her. "Yes, Evelyn?"

"Uh, you can just call me Evie. Would you like to get a drink sometime? Or do... something else if you like... Just hang out?"

Molly looked confused and embarrassed. "Um... sorry Evie, I suppose I should say... I don't really go for that sort of thing..." She trailed off, looking completely flustered. Evelyn realized what she was thinking, and couldn't help but laugh.

"No no! Sorry Molly, I've been out of the social game for a long while. I meant get together, y'know, as friends." She gave her a genuine smile, which Molly returned and giggled.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I do work all strange hours of the day, though, so how about we just go to lunch sometime? I'm free..." She looked upwards, thinking. "Tuesday? That's in four days, when I have just the night shift."

Evelyn grinned. "Great. You'll have to pick somewhere. I haven't really been to the restaurants around here."

Molly waved her hand. "Oh it's fine. I know a homey cafe a couple blocks from my house."

Evelyn nodded, and at that moment they heard a loud voice echo in the otherwise silent morgue.

"Evelyn!" Sherlock shouted. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"I suppose that's my cue. I'll see you later, Molly." Evelyn bid her farewell, and jogged around the corner to the elevator, where Sherlock was standing with an impatient expression.

"What were you two discussing?"

Evelyn shrugged. "Nothing, really. We're getting lunch this weekend."

Sherlock's eyebrow lifted. "You got along quite well. Not exactly what I was expecting."

Evelyn was confused. "What? Why not? She's very kind."

He contemplated his response. "She is helpful and selfless, yes. I did not believe your harsh disposition and her softer one would mold together well. Ah well, back to Baker Street? We do have a big day ahead of us coming up." He flew into the elevator and she followed, frowning.

"I'm not letting you off that easily, Mr. Detective. What exactly about me is _harsh?_"

"Considering you just hissed that sentence at me? You obviously have a hard time containing your deeper emotions, and you spew them out in the only way you learned how: through sarcasm, reticence, and a blunt proclivity for violence." He turned towards her. She glared at him, then looked forward.

"You can't know everything about a person by just looking, Sherlock."

That seemed to shock him a bit, for he jerked slightly and didn't speak to her for the rest of the way home. Once inside 221B once again, Evelyn felt the full force of exhaustion hit her, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She tripped up the stairs and almost fell flat on her face if not for Sherlock's quick reflexes. He let go of her arm slowly.

"I realize you are fatigued, but you can't sleep just yet."

She groaned. "Why not?"

He smirked at her whining. "We need to go over the plan."

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**A/N MOLLY! Gahh, I love Molly. She's one of my favorite characters, because honestly I relate to her the most. Did you all like that little shower scene? *waggles eyebrows* You're welcome.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Next chapter, loves! I enjoyed writing this chapter quite a bit, so I hope you enjoy it half as much as I did writing it! Alright I'll stop blabbing, here you go!**

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She awoke early that morning. Well, at least what was considered early for her, which was before eleven o'clock. It had been two days since she met Molly and one of the craziest days of her life. The past few days have been dedicated to going over every minute detail of their plan, which was going to be executed today. Evelyn was hit with the sudden emotion of anxiety, and got dressed quickly in her disguise, donning the suit and pantyhose, but decided to delay putting on the heels until the last minute, and carried them instead. She used the mirror to do what she supposed was a fancy updo that looked professional enough, Evelyn hoped. She also put on some makeup, and was surprised she could even remember how to do it. She applied some dark rose lipstick for good measure, and stared at her reflection, not sure when the last time was she saw this person in the mirror. An ancient feeling bubbled up in her mind, and she didn't even recognize it at first, but then smiled at the thought: she felt pretty.

Her anxiety receded as she went through the plan in her mind over and over again like a benediction. She was confident in her abilities, as damning as they were, and knew Sherlock could get them out of any... miscalculation they found themselves in. Evelyn was ready to find some answers about herself and the secrets that have been kept just out of reach all her life.

She hurried downstairs and into Sherlock's flat, to find him on his laptop, looking absolutely pristine in one of his suits. Evelyn frowned and her eyebrows knitted together.

"Aren't you supposed to be disguised?"

He looked up from his work, and his eyes widened a little, making Evelyn feel self-conscious.

"Does my disguise look weird?" She looked down at her outfit, turning a little, trying to see different angles of herself. Sherlock cleared his throat and focused on his laptop.

"You look... suitable for the task. No one will recognize you."

"Okay... what about you? You look like Sherlock Holmes." He waved away her concerns.

"I have a disguise that I will don later." He seemed suspiciously vague, but Evelyn let it drop. She put her heels on the floor and decided to stop by Mrs. Hudson's to visit, and also because she smelled something delicious wafting in from the old lady's flat. She padded softly downstairs and knocked gently on her door. Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out from inside, allowing her entrance. She walked in and inhaled, the scent making her mouth water. She went to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hudson was just taking out some scones from the oven. She smiled at Evelyn.

"Oh dear you're just in time! Just popped these out. Also have some eggs and sausage if you want some."

Evelyn almost groaned aloud. "Yes _please._" She sat down, licking her lips and eyeing the plateful of food the landlady was preparing. As soon as she set it down, Evelyn began scarfing it, enjoying the taste immensely. The woman laughed and Evelyn looked up at her confused with a large mouthful of food.

"No one's going to steal your food when you're not looking, dearie."

Evelyn swallowed and gave her an innocent smile. "I guess I'm just not used to getting regular meals at predictable intervals. Sorry." She began to take her time, eating a small forkful and chewing slowly. Mrs. Hudson laughed again.

"Oh don't be silly; I was just teasing. I don't mind how you eat, I just wanted to remind you how you should eat in case a certain detective fellow happened to be watching." Evelyn choked.

"Mrs. Hudson! You don't- I don't- but..." She gave up and sighed. "He doesn't feel that way and you know it."

The old lady shrugged. "You may be surprised. None of us have been able to figure him out completely."

Evelyn made firm eye contact. "I kissed him, and he rejected me."

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened a fraction. "That quickly, dearie? It's only been three days."

Evelyn groaned loudly. "I know, I know! I messed it up! It's just been... _so long_. And he's intelligent and kind to me and funny and..." She put her head in her hands. "There's something wrong with me."

She was shocked out of her misery when the landlady swatted at her and her eyes scrunched together. "Now look here! There is absolutely nothing wrong with you! Sherlock just doesn't know what he's missing! You're beautiful and strong, and could easily outwit any man in London!"

Evelyn was speechless. She stood up slowly, and without warning wrapped her arms around the landlady in a firm grip. The woman patted her gently and soothingly. Evelyn pulled away.

"I don't know what I've done to earn your kindness, and I am far from deserving of it, but I'm very grateful for your company." Evelyn gave her a sad smile.

Mrs. Hudson patted her cheek. "Don't beat yourself up, dearie. You're still young. You have a lot of life ahead of you." Evelyn looked down. _Not as much as you think,_ she thought. But, she smiled anyway, and left the flat, thanking her once again for the food.

She trotted back upstairs, pulling her skirt down after it rode up. The pantyhose was already irritating her, and she wanted to just rip them off, but she kept Sherlock's feelings in mind. She opened the door to his flat and instantly froze. A man was sitting in Sherlock's chair that Evelyn had never seen before. He had a dark beard and glasses, and wore a red beanie. He sat languidly with his legs slightly parted, as if he had no where to be. He wore a light blue button-up shirt under a tweed jacket and brown pants. The mysterious stranger also wore Oxfords and Evelyn could see his socks had a strange pattern on them. She didn't know who this was, but she definitely wanted to find out.

"Um, hello." She waved to get his attention. "Yes, who are you?"

The man smiled wickedly, and Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. "Are you saying you don't recognize me?" His voice was a bright tenor, but Evelyn felt a twang of familiarity at hearing it. She shook her head.

The man jumped up and straightened his back. "Brilliant!" Evelyn groaned. That rumbling bass she knew well.

"Sherlock! What the hell!?" She growled. He just smirked.

"My disguise seems to work perfectly as planned. What do you you think?" He waved a hand over his outfit, which Evelyn was only too happy to scan over again. _Wait, what?,_ she thought with a start, and her face started burning.

"I-it's... I m-mean it... it's fine! It will work fine!" She shut her mouth firmly.

"You didn't recognize me at all. And why should anyone. The public is used to tailored suits and that ghastly ear-hat." He sneered. "Taking the image of a typical male 'hipster' as people so commonly refer to it as will ensure I remain unidentified with our plan today." He rubbed his hands together.

Evelyn's logic caught up to her. "Won't a well-guarded government military building be a little suspicious if a random guy dressed like a fashionista lumberjack just tries to waltz into the building?"

Sherlock had the audacity to chuckle at her well-meant query. "You believe I hadn't considered that?"

She frowned, annoyed. "No. I just wish you'd get to the point." His smirk fell off.

"I will be attempting to sell them a new type of organic tea for their break rooms. If there's one thing the British government can't resist, it's a hot cuppa. I already have both of our new identification tags and information ready."

"Yeah. My alias: Alisa Newson. An intelligence official for military weaponry and devices." She stopped and smiled proudly. He nodded at her and rolled his eyes, smirking a bit. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, wanting her to continue. "Your cover: Dean Sheppard. Apparently a tea extraordinaire." She smirked back.

He handed her the tag, which she studied and clipped onto the front pocket of her suit top. He also gave her an earpiece so they could communicate back and forth, an empty briefcase with some fake papers in it to get through security and transport new information back.

She chuckled. "I feel like I'm in a James Bond movie. What, no gun?"

He sneered. "Guns are preposterous and made for the mindless brutes who can't function without the need for force. And James Bond is a fictional character made up by Hollywood to give meaningless hope that there's more excitement to life than sitting on the couch without employment."

Evelyn winced. "Ouch."

"Just focus on the plan. We need more information on Britain's ideas for those blueprints, Evelyn."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, I know. We only went over this, like, twelve times. And I think we've reached the point in our... thing..." She paused, barely embarrassed that she couldn't exactly define their relationship. "That you can call me Evie. Evelyn makes me sound ancient."

Sherlock didn't speak for a moment. "As you wish... Evie." He said the nickname slowly, like he was tasting it on his tongue for the first time. She nodded encouragingly. He glanced at his watch.

"It's a quarter to four. The amount of people in the building is the smallest in fifteen minutes, when we'll get there. We better leave now. Communications check." He put an invisible earpiece in his ear, and she did the same. He spoke a couple times, making sure she could hear him well. He gathered his makeshift backpack with all things tea inside, and her the briefcase. They left the flat and took two separate cabs to the Ministry of Defense to deter suspicion. Sherlock got out first, walking straight up to the front entrance with a lanky, relaxed stride that Evelyn would never have associated with him. She had the driver stop hers on the other side of the street, where she got out and waited, leaning against the wall of a building whilst casually scanning the personnel guarding the doors. Once Sherlock was inside, she counted to two hundred before crossing the street. Evelyn was well used to jobs like this, and if anyone was aware of the secret beneath her appearance, they would christen her a perfect actress. Her shoulders were back and head held straight, with a serious look that seemed to say, "My business is more important than yours could ever be." Authority poured off her like a sweet perfume as she approached the gigantic two ornate doors leading to the interior. Evelyn smirked on the inside when the security guard stood a little more attentively as she passed into the building.

Once inside, she inwardly gaped at the extravagant decor. The floor was marble and brown squares modernized the overall look. Large marble pillars of ebony stood tall and overlooked the lobby, which was filled with small black armchairs that reminded Evelyn of Sherlock's, but less leather. She glanced around at the security that her and Sherlock spent so long accounting for separately, and spotted Sherlock talking very convincingly to a man at the desk. She pretended to scratch her ear, and discreetly turned on the earpiece. Sherlock's deep voice rumbled in her ear.

He was telling the man excitedly about his new product, and his wish to speak to "the head of such things" to repeat his spiel once more. The man looked thoroughly unconvinced, but when Sherlock promised he'd confer with the boss about letting the drinks be free for front desk employees, the man smiled and had another guard begin to escort him past the security doors. Said guard also happened to be the only one standing in front of a very particular door she needed to enter. She smiled. Phase one complete.

Sherlock coughed twice in her ear, and she began the next sequence of their plan. She saw a line for the small coffee stand on the opposite side of the room, where she noticed a man standing behind a beautiful young woman. He was slumping over and trying not to be noticed, but she caught the fact that he was stealing glances at the rather large behind of the lady in front of him. Evelyn smiled. _Perfect_.

She began walking straight towards him, and took out a handkerchief she'd heavily doused with perfume. She stood up straighter and pulled down her shirt a bit, revealing some cleavage she rarely showed. She cleared her throat and the man looked up, adjusting his glasses. Evelyn gave him her most seductive smile and dabbed the 'kerchief on the sides of her neck slowly, before biting her lip and bringing the cloth to brush against the tops of her breasts. His mouth gaped open, and he moved his suitcase in front of a certain area that seemed to be giving him trouble. She walked by him and winked before dropping the handkerchief on the ground, seemingly accidentally. She kept on, and only looked behind her when she knew he had bent down and was examining it carefully, even closing his eyes and smelling it. She only had a small window, so she rushed over quietly behind him and discreetly pinched hard the buttocks of the busty woman he was eyeing earlier. Evelyn hurried out of there, before the lady turned around, infuriated, and unfortunately the poor sap got a sucker punch to the face.

While everyone's attention was on the purple swelling eye beginning to form on the man, Evelyn quickly swiped one of the security guards' cards off his belt as he was running past her towards the commotion. She scanned it for the unmanned door to open, and stepped inside. She took a deep breath, remembering what was important. _Just because you're doing this, it doesn't mean you're the same person you were. You are not her anymore._ With that reaffirmation, she opened her eyes with a new found strength she hadn't felt in a long time. She continued, coughing twice to let Sherlock know Phase two was done while holding the earpiece. She could hear him chatting with someone about coffees and teas.

She knew what she had to do. She continued walking, not bothering with any of the security cameras. It was no matter if they saw her identity, because Sherlock said himself she wasn't technically existing at the moment, so it was like she was invisible. She kept going down the narrow hallway, passing many unimportant doors as she looked for the right one. Evelyn counted with precision, knowing exactly which turns to make and where they led. Finally her long walk brought her to a thick red door, with a security guard standing at attention.

She took a deep breath and gave him a dazzling smile. "Morning."

He tipped his hat at her. "Good morning, miss. What is your business here?"

She waved her hand. "My name is Alisa Newson. I'm new here, specializing in weaponry. I'm just doing some routine checkups. You know how it is."

He stood up straighter and stared her in the eye. "I'm sorry but I'm afraid I don't. I'll need to see some identification."

She smiled wider. "Alright." She pulled out her forged ID and handed it over. He looked skeptical and was studying it much longer than she was hoping he would.

"Hmm... I'm going to have to call my boss and double check these qualifications. Just to make sure. You know how it is." He smirked at her after repeating her words back to her, and pulled out his walkie talkie. This had gone far enough.

Evelyn sighed. "Oh I was hoping we could do this civilly." With that she spun and the spine of her heel connected hard with his solar plexus. He let out a rush of air and hit his head on the steel door behind him. She approached and rendered him unconscious, taking his gun and tucking it in the back of her skirt. _Just in case._ She knew Sherlock didn't like weapons, but if it came down to life or death, she would use it in a heartbeat. She also handcuffed the guard's hand to the circular wheel that opened the door, which she unbolted automatically with a quick scan of her stolen key card. She went inside, entering a secured section of the building reserved for intelligence gathering. Many rooms lined the hallways, and she could hear some chatting of workers in the various rooms filled with extensively labeled filing cabinets. Evelyn just needed the correct one.

She wandered on, looking for a certain number on a certain door. She grinned when she saw it: 410. _This is where the magic happens_. Luckily for her, the man whose name occupied the plaque on the door was out for lunch. Mr. Thomas Oliver was right on schedule. His door was locked and the lights were off, but Evelyn unobtrusively used the card to wiggle open the lock. She stepped inside and shut the door, then turned on the lights. Tall cabinets lined every wall, and in the middle of the ordinary room was a small glass desk and chair. A black PC rested on the glass.

Evelyn set down her suitcase on the table and opened it. Inside, after pushing away some useless papers, was a computer with an impressive array of wires and electronics surrounding the interior lining. Evelyn connected some wires to the PC and began typing away, hacking efficiently the top secret files in Mr. Oliver's laptop. She knew there was probably some sort of information in the filing cabinets, but was certain only the most important lay in his personal files on his hard drive. They began downloading, so Evelyn sat back in the chair, waiting. She reminisced all the missions she's been on, both the good and the bad. Thinking of the bad ones made her shiver and sit up, so she stopped thinking about it.

Evelyn glanced at the screen on the briefcase as images flashed by. _There_. She saw the blueprints pass by quickly, along with the finer details of their purpose. She flipped on her communicator.

"Sherlock. I've got them. They're downloaded." She could hear him excuse himself to take a call, and heard his light footsteps and a door close.

"Good. Then get out of there quickly."

"Got it. Wait-" She was about to pull the plug, when she saw her own face displayed multiple times, from different angles and moments. Then her own information was appearing and disappearing on the screen, things she believed no one knew except herself. She froze.

Evelyn didn't realize Sherlock was speaking to her. "Evelyn. Evelyn! What is it? Are you in trouble?" He was a bit frantic. She heard a door open and a man's voice. Sherlock answered in his falsified tenor voice: "Yes, I believe I've done all I could here. Feel free to send me an e-mail about my products if you're interested."

The man began walking away. Sherlock hissed, "Get out now."

Evelyn was typing. "Wait, there's something more. It's me. Hundreds of files of me."

"No, whatever it is, it can wait. Our time is up. Mr. Oliver will be back in three minutes. Just enough time for you to leave." He growled.

"Just give me a second." She was scanning through the information manually now, getting only the files about her. Sherlock's protests were ringing in her ear, so she turned off the communicator. She finished copying, and unhooked the wires from the PC, putting them back into the briefcase. She stood up and walked over to the door, pulling it open. Standing not eight inches from her face was a handsome man in a sleek grey suit.

"Mr. Oliver." Evelyn said his name in a breathy voice without realizing it.

He smiled at her, flashing his pearly whites that must have cost thousands of dollars. "Hello, there. And you are?"

Evelyn's brain snapped back into action. "Alisa Newson. I'm new here, and they sent me over to your office to get a file." She patted her case dumbly for good measure.

He glanced down at it. "Oh, alright. Anything I could help you with?" His eyes met hers.

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I found what they needed just fine. I actually have to be going now, so goodbye." She brushed past him and continued walking. Once she made it past his line of sight, she quickened her pace, making it past everyone, including the red door and still unconscious guard. Once in the lobby, she took a deep breath and slowed down.

Evelyn looked up to see Sherlock standing by the doorway, crossing his arms and looking very frustrated. He saw her and glared, before heading out the exit. She cursed and followed him, prepared to hear his outrage. Once outside, she followed him a few blocks before he called a taxi and waited for her to catch up and climb inside. He sat next to her with an angry plop and gave the driver directions. He was completely silent the whole way back to Baker Street, of which Evelyn was partly glad and anxious about.

She contemplated the new information she gathered, and what it all meant. Why did the Ministry of Defense have all her dirty secrets on file? What could they benefit from knowing all the missions she's accomplished? All the people she's interacted with? Could it be that they've been tracking her all this time? Known where and who she's been?

She grew more and more worried. Maybe they knew about Sherlock, and John, and Mary, and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. They could be in danger. She looked over at Sherlock, who was quietly fuming. She didn't want to see him get hurt, or any of them for that matter. On the other hand, and yes it was completely selfish of her, but she didn't want to leave. She liked the people she'd met, and the person they think she is. She'd like to actually be that woman one day. But her past has caught up to her now, and she knew she had to do what she thought was best for all of them.

Evelyn made her decision, as heartbreaking as it was.

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**A/N There it is! Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Hello again! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

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"How could you be so imbecilic and jeopardize the mission? You were thirty seconds from being caught, and then my idiotic brother would have gotten word. You would've been taken into federal custody where they most likely would have tortured you for information and killed you without the blink of an eye. For what? A measly sliver of intelligence on your past life? That has no weight anymore! Here and now, your future, is what matters. I gave my word I'd assist your case for your benefit. I cannot do my job if you're in the way!" Sherlock continued pacing and reprimanding her like a child. Evelyn was sitting in John's armchair, completely silent and unemotional. He'd blown up at her as soon as they crossed the threshold of his flat, and she'd just sat down and taken it without trying to defend herself.

He finally ended his insult-filled rant and noticed she hadn't said a word or tried to interrupt him. "Evie."

She looked up at him with a blank face. That was the first time he used her nickname.

His eyebrows furrowed together in what looked like worry. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yes. I think I just need to get some rest. Go ahead and get what information you can from the computer." She stood up and left the room without any sort of passing remark, but he didn't try to stop her. She went upstairs and sat on the bed, thinking. She stayed in that position for hours, until she heard absolute silence from downstairs. Then she gathered her things in a backpack and slowly crept down the two flights of stairs and out the front door.

Evelyn allowed a stray tear to fall as she took one last glance at the darkened building that had been so close to becoming something of a home in these past few days. Most of all, she would miss Sherlock. He'd brought out a part of Evelyn she wasn't sure still resided inside her. She could be as herself as she liked and yet even more so around him. He never tried to shun her talents or shy away from the darker parts of her past, like no one she's ever met before. And she was leaving him.

She shook her head. But she had to keep them safe. Evelyn had grown more attached to them than anyone in these last few years. Uninvited imagery popped into her brain of Mrs. Hudson being shot, then Molly being tortured, John and Mary killed together, and finally Sherlock's throat slit. Evelyn covered her hand over her mouth to suppress a sob. Those images thrust her legs forward, and she was soon running as fast as she could from the people she cared about most. She ran until she couldn't breathe, and had to stop to receive oxygen into her lungs. Then she walked, and kept walking until she realized it was almost sunrise.

Evelyn had no idea where she was, but at the present moment couldn't find any reason to care. She dropped her bag and sat down on some steps under a streetlamp, and closed her eyes. She knew she wasn't able to fall asleep, but she felt the need to rest a bit. Unfortunately, doing that resulted in seeing those gruesome images again, so she sighed and opened her eyes. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, but she was so tired it was like an Olympic sport.

A man in a nice suit was walking down her side of the street. He looked like he was heading in for work, but it was very very early. Evelyn couldn't see his face.

"Excuse me, sir?" She called out, and he looked up at her. "Where am I?"

He said something, but was just a little too far away to hear. She squinted under the light.

"What?"

Suddenly two pairs of arms grabbed her roughly by each elbow. She tried to scream, but one of the men placed his smelly, grizzly paw over her mouth. She squirmed with all her might until she felt the cool, hard end of a gun through her thin clothes. She relaxed, and her mouth was freed.

"Well, that's just plain unfair." She grumbled. She forgot about the man across the street, and she looked up, hopeful that he saw her and was calling the police. He had seen her, and was running across the street and holding up his hand.

Evelyn knew if the man kept coming closer he'd seriously get hurt, so she called out, "No, don't!"

One of the men held up his gun, which Evelyn saw was a powerful semi-automatic with a silencer attached to the end. She struggled harder. No innocent was going to die tonight. The man in the suit held up his hands.

"Whoa! Listen, pal, you don't want to do this!" He started coming closer, until his face came into the light.

"Mr. Oliver?!" His dark complexion and light eyes were unmistakable. Evelyn reasoned he must have been on his way to work.

He kept his eyes on the gun. "Don't shoot!" The thug cocked the pistol, aimed, then to Evelyn's surprise, placed the end of it right back onto her spine.

Mr. Oliver laughed and put down his hands. "Ha ha! Bet I got you there, hm?" He mimicked being shot and chuckled. "God, you're so gullible."

Evelyn froze. "What the hell-?"

Thomas was pacing. "And stupid as well? I thought there were only benefits in this package. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers."

"Mr. Oliver, you remember me right? Alisa?" She feigned being afraid.

He laughed in her face. "Drop the child's act, Evelyn. We both know it's not working."

She did. "Why are you doing this?" Her eyebrows scrunched up in anger.

He shrugged. "Honestly?" He cocked back his arm and slammed his fist into the side of her face, and her nose and mouth began to simultaneously bleed. She groaned in pain.

"I don't like you. One could even make the claim that I hate you." He took out a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his knuckles clean of Evelyn's blood.

She spit red onto the ground. "What the hell did I ever do to you? I met you yesterday." One of the men holding her gave her a hard punch to the stomach. She tried to suck in air and choked. Mr. Oliver held up a hand.

"There will be no need for that. She may speak freely. What have you done to me, you ask? Why nothing." He chuckled again, like he was the funniest guy in the world. What an asshole.

"How do you know my name? My real name?" She was wary.

He pointed at her with glee. "Now you're asking the right questions. I know quite a lot about you, Evelyn. Like who your parents were. Where you used to live. Your ex employer. Your _current_ employer." He gave his eyebrows a little waggle.

Evelyn's blood froze. Her eyes turned to steel. "How?"

"You mean how do I know your past? Be specific now. Let's just say I used to work with your dad. How is the old man? Oh wait." He grinned, and Evelyn growled a warning. "Your mother wasn't half bad either. I remember always looking forward to the days she'd wear those tight little pencil skirts."

Evelyn shook with rage and tried to wrestle free again. Oliver grabbed her face hard, squishing her cheeks and tsking. "No no, there will be none of that." He paused. "You remind me a little of her." Before Evelyn could retort, he leaned in and mashed his lips against hers. She yelped and tried to pull away, but he was very strong. He released her and she spit on him, which earned her another hit, cutting her cheek.

"Who the fuck are you?!" She hissed.

He spread out his arms. "Was it not obvious? Fine then, I guess I'll go ahead and let the cat out of the bag. I am Cromwell. I thought I was being kind of clever. Combining Thomas Cromwell and Oliver Cromwell, both powerful English leaders in history, to make a name for myself. And I'm more powerful than both of them ever dreamed of." He smirked.

Evelyn struggled to breathe. He was there in the flesh. "What do you want from me?" She whispered.

He got as close to her face as he could without touching her, and she flinched. "Your life in the palm of my hand." With those finalizing words, his large hand wrapped itself tightly around her neck and began to squeeze. She choked and tried to suck in air, but her windpipe was closing rapidly fast. She fought to free herself with all her might, but it was not enough. Cromwell's eyes were burning with a mixture of hatred and glee; that of which she'd never seen before. Evelyn panicked, thinking the same thing over and over again. _Please no! I can't die now!_ Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Her vision was fading. Her mother and father's smiling faces were shining behind her eyelids, and she felt at peace. Maybe it was time.

No. It wasn't.

Evelyn was suddenly released, and she coughed, trying to fill her lungs again. It was so painful, like knives stabbing the tender organs. She was cold, and could barely make out anything except the wet, hard concrete beneath her limp body. She heard the sound of struggles, and someone was running away. Metal hit the ground, along with two large objects. Then, she felt warm strong arms enfold her, and heard someone's familiar voice.

"Please hang on, Evie. You're going to be alright." The last thing her blurry vision could make out was Sherlock's worried blue eyes focused on her face. Then, everything went black.

She felt very warm. She opened her eyes a fraction, and saw a bright golden light. Evelyn blinked a couple times, until the soft roaring fireplace came into focus. She shifted, and groaned with pain. Suddenly, someone was there by her side. Evelyn turned her head, and Sherlock was there, kneeling next to her. His hand was gentle on her shoulder, as was his voice.

"How do you feel?"

She moved again, and barely suppressed another groan. She tried to speak and could only croak at first. Her throat was killing her when she cleared it. "Like hell."

He nodded and stood up. She heard him walk out of the room and clinking noises coming from the kitchen, and he came back with a glass of water. She smiled in appreciation, but it stretched and broke the skin of the healing cut on her lip, and it began to bleed. She drank and rinsed the cut, tasting metal. Evelyn clenched her teeth and sat up in John's chair when Sherlock sat across from her in his.

"How did you find me?"

He looked into the flames. "I knew from your countenance last night you planned on leaving. I waited up as silently as I could to see where you would go. Unfortunately, you were quieter than I had planned, and you got a longer head start than I would have liked. I eventually discovered your location when... I saw that man kissing you and attempt to asphyxiate you." His jawline set and if looks could kill, the floorboard would be ash. "My anger got the better of me. I injured the two men holding you extensively. The third one got away with only a broken nose and arm. I was distracted by my emotions and wasn't thinking, otherwise I believe he deserved more. I didn't know... I wasn't sure if you were going to make it. I called John over. He said it didn't look good and I-" He faltered and sat silently brooding.

Evelyn nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. "I had a friend once." He looked at her, and she took his silence as meaning continuance was wanted. "The same friend who helped me hack the FBI and the one whom I first told about the blueprints. His name is Adam, and he worked with me. He used to be my partner for a while, on my... missions. We were good friends, the only one I had. We told each other everything, and I told him about my findings the day after I found the files. I was leaving his office, and I saw him... being taken." She paused, gazing into the fire sadly. "They were in black uniforms, and I knew I'd been found out. He surrendered but... they beat him. He told me to run, and I had to. I'll never forget that it was my fault. I didn't want him to get hurt, but he did anyway. I didn't... want that to happen to you too." She closed her eyes in shame.

Evelyn felt fingers brush her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Sherlock's intense blue eyes staring at her. "That won't happen to me. I've faced many dark foes... including Moriarty." That sparked her interest. "He was... the hardest enemy I've yet to face. He called himself a 'consulting criminal' just to spite me, but he was so much more. I recall having to describe him in court. Jim Moriarty was a spider, a spider at the center of a criminal web with a thousand threads, and he knew precisely how each and every one of them danced." His eyes went fuzzy and distant, and his tone gave Evelyn goosebumps. "He was insane, wanting to take over the world with his extensive influences and infinitive power. He attempted to blow up John just to gain my attention." Evelyn's eyes widened. "He tried to destroy my reputation for the sake of relieving his boredom, even going so far as to kill himself to make it happen, and forced me to fake my own death and hide out for two years, all the while traveling all over the world to destroy what organization of his was left."

She was both shocked and amazed. "That's terrible. I'm sorry." She genuinely was, and felt a wave of empathy pass over her for the man. He smiled at her.

"It's alright now. I'm back to doing what I do best. Solving cases."

"Speaking of... the man that... you know..." She paused, and his eyes turned scary again. "It was Thomas Oliver. He is Cromwell."

Sherlock sat up and assumed his thinking position. "Hm. A play on words. The two English political leaders from the sixteenth century. Clever. I should have seen it."

"How did you-? Never mind. He told me he used to work with my father and mother. He knew my real name, and... He knows who you are, Sherlock." He didn't seem fazed, but Evelyn was trembling.

"He must be linked to the weapon plans somehow. Did he give you anymore information as he was blabbing off?" He looked at her seriously.

"No. Other than knowing just about every fact about me under the sun, he just seemed really bent on killing me." She snorted sarcastically, then winced when it shot pain down her throat. The blanket she'd been snuggling in drooped a little, and Sherlock inhaled sharply and looked away, his jaw clenching rapidly.

Evelyn was worried. "What is it?"

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Your neck." His voice was strained.

She furrowed her brows and slowly got up, grunting in pain a little, before trotting down the hallway quickly and into the bathroom. She went over to stand in front of the mirror, and gasped. Her entire neck was blue and purple, bruised badly. She prodded it and bit her lip. She put one hand on either side of the sink and stared into the ivory bowl, trying not to think about Cromwell gripping her neck. When she looked up, Sherlock was standing behind her, looking half irate and half distressed.

"He definitely deserved more." He spoke through clenched teeth. Evelyn turned around and faced him.

"He'll get what's coming to him, trust me. I'll make sure of it."

"He never should have gotten a step ahead of me. I've been slow and inattentive."

Evelyn didn't know what prompted her, but she took his hand in hers. "Don't you dare start to blame yourself for what that bastard did. He caught both of us off guard, but only this once. Next time we'll be ready, and get that son of a bitch when he least expects it." She looked down and realized she'd been tracing the veins on the top of his hand with her thumb and dropped it, embarrassed.

Instead of leaving her, his warm hand brought her chin up, therefore connecting their line of sight. His eyes, for the first time since Evelyn had known him, were warm and inviting. No longer a blue of ice and shadow, but a bright blue like the morning sky.

"When I brought you in here, and John was attending to your injuries... I found myself feeling something I hadn't felt for a long time: fear. I didn't know if I'd lose you, and I realized you had, after only a matter of days, become an important person in my life."

His tender words brought prickling tears to her eyes, though they didn't fall. She smiled.

He gazed at her, then looked away. "You should know... I've always prided myself on the ability to not feel." He collected his thoughts. "Logic and reason hold the last judgment for every choice I make. My entire life has been based on pushing away the tedium of those who could not come close to my level of functioning, and those who spat on me because of it." He looked guilty, and that only made Evelyn want to comfort him even more, though she restrained herself upon feeling he needed to speak these words aloud.

She let him continue in his own time. "My ability to keep my equanimity has always been on my side, and was only broken if the people I... very much care about were put in danger. Last night I recognized that you have been added to that group of people... When you first kissed me," he began, and Evelyn's heart constricted when he glanced at her lips, "I thought if I responded the way you wished me to, I'd lose the only part of myself that has kept me safe and sane all these years. I _needed_ the reason and coldness I've perfected, because without it I am just a man you don't deserve."

Evelyn's heart soared, and she felt a rush of affection that she's never felt for anyone. It kind of scared her. "Sherlock... I've never had anyone in my life that I could trust completely, and who has trusted me in return. Relationships have always seemed to flee from me like rats from a sinking ship. I don't want you to get hurt because of me, but I also don't know if I have the strength to leave."

Before she could say another word, Sherlock's warm hand found the nape of her neck and he firmly pressed his lips to hers. He was more sure of himself this time, and any faults he had in kissing before was forgotten now. He learned _very_ quickly, and grasped what she liked in an instant, causing her to gasp. Evelyn was soon lost in the feeling of his soft lips on hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought them closer together, which he happily took in stride.

Eventually they had to break free for breath, but neither of them attempted to put any space in between them. They were both panting like dogs outside in the midsummer heat.

Sherlock gripped her head in both hands. "I have no experience in the area of relationships, Evie. If we are to be... together, you must understand I will not always be the image of a perfect partner. I will continue to have days of silence, solitude, and surely unbearable moods, but all of that is a part of me. It will not go away."

Evelyn smiled. "I realize that perfectly well, Sherlock. For me... there are many things I'm not proud of. I don't have a clean slate, and I've done a lot of bad things in the past. The bad parts I hope you'll accept with the good, as I plan to do with yours. I wouldn't change you for the world."

Their lips met once more, and Evelyn wished with all her might that the moment wouldn't end. But like all great things, it did, and they broke apart reluctantly. She grinned at him, and he smiled back.

"I suppose this gives me a bit of a reason to stay." Evelyn smirked and flapped his lapel.

He fixed it half-heartedly. "Perhaps."

His response was a little too vague for Evelyn's liking, but she decided to let it drop and instead bask in the incredible moment they just shared. She was definitely unsure of the future, but in this case Evelyn felt more than ready to go at it head on.

Of course, none of that changed her inexperience in relationships.

"Hey Sherlock?" She said quietly.

"Yes, Evelyn?" He looked down at her.

"Would it be alright... if I just hugged you?" She asked timidly.

His face showed confusion. "I would have thought the fact that we just exchanged saliva would supply as consent for physical contact."

She blushed, stumbling over her words. "Yeah, no, that's not what I meant- er, I mean... whenever I want? Like in public and whatnot?" He didn't respond right away, and Evelyn took that as a bad sign. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I don't want to force anything on you or something-" She rambled on.

She was suddenly enveloped in a warm cocoon of body heat. Sherlock was hugging her tightly. Evelyn smiled and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and finally feeling like she had a home.

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**A/N Well, there it is! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, but Sherlock being affectionate was a bit tricky (y'know since he isn't really affectionate) so forgive me if you don't like how his character is turning out. P.S. I'm actually catching up to where I'm currently writing the story a little faster than I would like, so sorry if you don't get chapters as methodically as I said. I do have other things going on in my life so I don't spend _all_ my time writing, as I would like, so I apologize in advance! Thanks, lovelies!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Very sorry for the delay but you were warned. This is mostly just establishing more of Molly and Evelyn's relationship, because I love them so much! Anyway, fangirling aside, here's the next chapter!**

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Evelyn adjusted the brown-sling bag she had on her shoulder and continued on through the large crowd that seemed to converge only in front of her. Ironic, given that she was already late. _I hope Molly isn't angry with me_, she couldn't help but think. Evelyn was supposed to meet Molly in exactly two minutes at the cafe Molly had mentioned when they first met. And Evelyn was about twenty minutes away.

Evelyn cursed in her head with every step against the rain-soaked pavement. The cold still managed to creep under all three layers of her clothing, including a t-shirt, cardigan, and thick coat. But that was London winter. The view was still breathtaking, with the dark, skimpy trees providing ample contrast to the bright colors of the busy city rushing past her. Evelyn wished she had more time to appreciate it, as she picked up her walking pace.

She looked up from under her hood and recognized a street name from the e-mail she'd gotten from Molly with directions to the small restaurant. She recited the exact directions in her head. _Take a left when you see the street. The cafe is another five blocks ahead on the right._ Evelyn perked up at the seemingly short distance, and although in reality was a long walk, she was suddenly energetic.

She hadn't had a friend since Adam. It's been years; way too long to have gone without human contact. This chance to start anew made Evelyn grin. She even found the energy to quicken her stride to a light jog at the prospect. She got there in eight minutes, which only made her six minutes late. As much as tardiness irked her, Evelyn could live with the number.

She studied her reached destination quickly, admiring the small, but homey, maroon exterior surrounded by the large chrome lettering "Lena's Cafe". Evelyn smiled and entered, immediately searching the cafe for Molly. She spotted her sitting at a little brown table decorated with a vase of lavender flowers, drinking a cup of tea. She was wearing an unusual outfit consisting of a uniquely-patterned sweater with dark khakis and simple brown shoes. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, just like the last time Evelyn saw her.

Evelyn adjusted her thick scarf over the enormous bruises on her neck.

As Evelyn came into Molly's field of view, the tiny woman looked up and flashed a genuine smile. Evelyn sat down across from her after removing her large coat and bag and flinging them over the back of her wooden chair. When she turned back around, Molly finally noticed the wounds on her face, and she gasped as concern lined her features.

"Evelyn! What happened to you?!"

Unfortunately, a scarf couldn't cover up everything. "Oh... just some bloke who jumped me the other night." She lied smoothly.

Molly winced as she studied the cuts with a doctor's eye. "Are you alright? He didn't... y'know?"

"No, he didn't get the chance. I landed a kick to his nuts and he was out for the count."

Molly giggled lightheartedly but still seemed worried. "Oh, good. Did you call report him to the police?"

"No I didn't want the hassle. But I told Sherlock and he's very bent on finding the man who did this to me."

Molly seemed satiated. "Alright then."

"Hey, by the way, I'm sorry I'm a little late. I took a cab at first, but then Sherlock climbed in at the last minute and gave directions to Scotland Yard, which of course was the complete opposite direction of where the cafe was. So I had to get out and come on foot." Evelyn said with an apologetic look.

Molly chuckled. "It's completely fine! I know how he can be. Besides, you're not really late. I myself just arrived a minute or two ago. You actually made quite good time for someone walking this whole way." She sipped, then stopped suddenly. "Oh, would you like to order some tea? They have a really great selection here."

Evelyn smiled. "I'd love to." She politely got the attention of a waitress and ordered a cup of Earl Grey for herself. Once received, she added a touch of cream and sugar, stirring it gently and taking a sip. It warmed her entire frame and did an excellent job of fending off the winter chills.

"So how has work been?" Evelyn asked, once she had finished tending to her tea.

Molly waved away the inquiry with a shy flare. "Oh, you don't want to hear about that. Usually talking about cadavers spoils people's moods. Probably why I don't have many friends. Oh, sorry!" She was flustered and embarrassed, but Evelyn didn't understand the cause of it. She laughed.

"Don't apologize! You probably have more friends than I do, considering the count so far has been exactly zero." Molly blushed, and Evelyn continued. "I do honestly want to hear about your work. I've always been exposed around things like that, and it's been an interesting study to me, or else I wouldn't have been around it for as long as I was." She encouraged.

Molly seemed to be relenting. "Alright, then. Work has been like it usually has. A lot of bodies. Don't get me wrong, I love my job! It has always fascinated me ever since I was in secondary school, which of course never really made me very popular. But I decided to put all other peoples' opinions behind me and do what I loved, and became very good at what I do. I love to help people doing the dirty work no one else wants to do. Especially if Sherlock consults with me. He always makes me feel like I'm doing something right, if he keeps coming back. Don't give me that look; I know he can be a right twat sometimes, but that's just who he is. And there was one time..." She drifted off.

Evelyn leaned in, curiosity fueled like gasoline on a fire. "Yes? Was there something going on between you and Sherlock?" She wasn't asking out of jealousy, now that her and Sherlock were together, but merely interest in this woman's past with him. She hoped it would reveal something else about him she didn't yet know.

Molly's eyebrows rose. "No, not like that! It was when... he was about to confront an evil man named Moriarty." She looked nervous to expose this information, although Evelyn knew it was now in the past. "He was at a loss knowing what he was about to do, what he _had_ to do. The first person he came to for help was me." She looked down and smiled, remembering her brief moment of feeling like she was worth something to him. "He said he needed me to help him and believe in him when no one else in the world did. So, I helped him fake his own death and keep his secret for two years." She took a deep breath as she finished, as well as a gulp of tea.

Evelyn was beyond impressed at the woman's courage, and was conclusive that she had underestimated Molly. "Wasn't that difficult? Knowing you couldn't tell anyone? Not knowing where he was or if he was safe?"

Molly's eyes glazed over a bit with resounding sadness. "Oh yes, of course it was. Knowing I saved Sherlock's life once but not sure whether he was in danger or not for two years was excruciatingly difficult for me. But he did... stay with me for a month or so at one point. It was very hard, and I realized then he wasn't what I thought he was." Evelyn understood, and didn't feel any envy toward Molly learning he stayed with her. "He was very arrogant and pushy, abusing my helpful nature to achieve his own ends, but he did eventually leave to continue his work. And it was horrible trying to keep the secret from John. A few times I almost thought I'd spill the beans-"

"Wait, what?!" Evelyn interrupted, astonished. "John didn't know?"

Molly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my. I'm sorry, I didn't know he hasn't told you. That was quite stupid of me and not really my business."

Evelyn reassured her. "No, it's alright. He told me most everything else. It's just... poor John. That must have been awful for him." She felt overwhelming pity for the doctor.

"Yes it was. For the first six months he wouldn't hardly talk to anyone. Just stayed in the flat and went to work, back and forth. He even picked back up his limp for a while." Molly had a painful look on her face after recalling the memories. "The only words he said to me was about whether I believed there to be something suspicious about Sherlock's autopsy. I think he was trying to make himself believe he wasn't really gone, which made me feel horrible about not being able to comfort him with the truth that he was right. Eventually he moved on, and found Mary."

Both women smiled at the mention of John's wife. "Mary is very kind. I met her when I was stab-... in need of medical attention." Evelyn almost slipped up, and realized it at the last second.

Molly didn't seem to notice, or if she did, didn't bring it up. "Yes, Mary's perfect for John. She sort of fixed him when he was lost. She couldn't exactly erase the cracks, but she did a better job than anyone at reducing their size. I don't know what would have happened to him if she wasn't there." She sipped more tea.

Evelyn couldn't imagine. "How did he eventually find out? Did Sherlock tell him?"

Molly snorted, choking on her tea a little. "That is quite a story, actually. Mary told me the whole thing. Sherlock apparently disguised himself as a waiter, found out the restaurant they were having dinner at, pretended to give them wine listings, and told John right then and there! And all he said was, "_Not dead_". He even interrupted John's proposal!" She began giggling incessantly, while Evelyn struggled to keep a straight face.

"Oh God. What did John do? I would have killed him."

Molly nodded. "He came close to it. Just launched himself at Sherlock. The idiot ended up with a broken lip, a bloody nose, and a sore ego that night." Both women were laughing aloud now.

Evelyn wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, astonished both at that fact and the anecdote itself. "Wow. That would make a _great_ campfire story." She made a mental note to remember every detail.

Molly giggled again. "Yes it would. Though I've never been camping."

Evelyn stared at the woman across from her. "Seriously? Never?"

Molly shrugged. "I've always been too busy to get that much free time. I've always been sort of chary about the entire concept, not knowing how to set up a tent or fire. I'd probably get myself killed."

Evelyn leaned back in her chair, an idea growing in the back of her mind. "Not with me."

The other woman blinked. "Are you proposing we go camping together? Because that sounds like a horrible idea, Evie."

Evelyn laughed. "Oh c'mon! I know everything there is to know about survival! You'd be surprised. Everyone has to go camping at least once in their life, and your chance is rapidly approaching! I'm sure there's some beautiful places around here outside the city."

Molly worried her bottom lip. "It does sound nice... but I don't know if I could get off work. Although... I _do_ have some vacation days saved up. And it's not like I have the money to go anywhere extravagant. I suppose I could see if I could take off a weekend."

Evelyn grinned. "Great! It's settled. We'll plan a trip sometime." She finished off her tea as a victory swig. Camping had always been one of her favorite things to do, especially as a child. On the rare occasions Evelyn's father wasn't working, he would pack up camping gear in their car and take her and her mother on a trip to whatever beautiful scenery was nearby. They'd just spend a weekend with nothing but each other and the raw outdoors. Hiking, fishing, and making up ghost stories were some of her favorite activities whilst relaxing in nature. She hadn't gone for a very long time, and would like to reminisce some of the happier moments of her young life.

The two women sat smiling for a minute.

Molly interjected the comfortable silence. "So! What have you and Sherlock gotten up to?"

"Excuse me?" Evelyn _totally_ misheard the tone in Molly's voice, but her logic caught up in seconds. "I-I mean... um... our work is going pretty good."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Are you not going to explain? What work is it? A new case perhaps?" Her interest was peaked. Unfortunately, as much as Evelyn like the woman, Molly couldn't know about the intelligence they discovered yesterday, nor _anything_ about their goals.

"Eh... nothing really that important. Just one of his usual cases. A... kidnapped husband. Yes."

"Hm, sounds interesting! Is Lestrade in on it?"

Evelyn blanked. "Who is Lestrade?"

Molly made a face. "You mean you haven't met him yet? He's a Detective Inspector Sherlock often works with. So Scotland Yard isn't involved. Must be a case Sherlock wants to keep low-profile." Molly was definitely clever. Evelyn wasn't sure she could fool this woman long enough for her and Sherlock to complete their work. She also didn't want to, but it had to be done for Molly's sake.

"Yes, I believe it is. His client is sort of important in society. We're just helping out."

"Huh." She seemed curious. "Do you live close by then? To help Sherlock?" She asked.

_Well shit,_ Evelyn thought. She was hoping they wouldn't get to that. But she knew she could trust Molly on this particular subject. And even maybe receive some advice. "Actually... I'm living with Sherlock."

Molly's face warped without her consent, into shock and something else. "W-what?!"

Evelyn rushed to her aid. "No no! In John's old room upstairs from Sherlock's flat. I didn't exactly... have a place to stay..." She winced, hoping Molly wouldn't react with hostility. To her evident surprise, Molly's face remained stone as she absorbed the information.

"... Okay. Uh... I bet that's a real adventure." She snorted but it seemed to be without humor.

Evelyn waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "Well, yeah. It has been. And uh... there's another thing..." She didn't want to break the news at all to the sweet pathologist, but if she didn't tell her now, it might hurt her terribly later.

"What is it?" Molly was apprehensive.

"He and I... w-well we're... um, t-together now." Evelyn had never stuttered more in her life.

Molly's face portrayed she was hurt, but not on the level Evelyn had expected. She also seemed to be expressing a completely different emotion: relief. _ Wait, relief?!_ Evelyn was so confused.

"You do realize it's been less than a week?" Molly was trying to understand, Evelyn could tell.

"Okay, I know it hasn't been long... but we sort of fit together. I was very... _lost_ when I showed up on his doorstep. He took me in and helped me. Mended the cracks." Evelyn gave a little smile. "But I'm so sorry if it hurts you. I know how you feel about him." She gripped the pathologist's hand.

Molly took a deep breath, and just shrugged. "Honestly, I thought I'd be in more pain. I actually am sort of... relieved it's you and not someone else. Part of me always thought that if he didn't ever find anyone, there would always be a chance for me. But I always knew it would never work out between us. I still love him, and I'll still help him whenever he asks, but I feel like it's time I moved on. Besides, after living with him for a month, most of my girlish admiration has pretty much ebbed away completely."

Evelyn was so happy that Molly didn't hate her guts. "Thank you so much, Molly. I'm sure there's someone perfect just waiting for you out there." She smiled.

The other woman nodded. "I like to believe that. So! What's it like?" She got interested and sipped more of her tea.

Evelyn was wary. "What's _what_ like?"

"Oh you know!" She leaned in closer and whispered. "The _sex_?"

Evelyn's face suddenly resembled that of a doe caught in headlights. "_No! _None of that has happened! And will not happen anytime soon!"

Molly looked disappointed. "Damn. I was a bit curious as to how it was, considering most of his friends think he's still a virgin."

Evelyn's mouth dropped. "What, _him?_ No, that doesn't seem plausible. I mean, yeah, he doesn't seem the type to go for many relationships, but a virgin? He's _very_ handsome. I cannot imagine no woman has thrown herself at him, with him being unrelenting. " She shook her head. "But I could understand the repulsion to it. Hell, _I've_ only had sex once. It was horrible."

Molly was astounded. "_Once?_"

"Yeah when I was twenty two. I'm pretty sure he had hyper salivation and it lasted about ten minutes. Then a week later I found out he was also seeing two other women." She grimaced at the memory.

Molly winced as well. "What an arse. But sex actually is quite nice. Only having it once then giving up on it is kind of a waste, trust me."

Evelyn agreed, but was inwardly quite afraid of the subject. She didn't know if she could give herself over completely to someone like that, considering the physical and emotional aspects of such a joint activity. There was also the fact that it was just way too early in their relationship. Or was it? Evelyn had no idea. She promised herself that she would consider Molly's words, and perhaps talk it over with Sherlock. It was sure to be an awkward conversation ahead of her.

She decided a change in topic was to be had. "So... tell me a bit more about yourself, Molly."

Molly thought for a moment. "Well... I live just a block from St. Bart's, so work is pretty much my life. I had an okay childhood, until my dad died. It took a while, as he just got sicker and sicker, and it was really hard on my mum. Eventually she found someone, my step dad, and she's happy now. Secondary school wasn't the best time of my life, but university was alright. I have a cat named Toby, and he's very sweet. God, I hope that doesn't make me sound like a mad spinster. I like to watch TV in my free time, especially Glee." She paused as a strange expression came over her face, one that seemed equally sad and dark. "Well, not anymore."

Evelyn noticed her shift in demeanor. "Why not?"

Molly fiddled with her mug with unease. "I used to... be in a relationship with Moriarty. We would watch Glee together."

Evelyn was shocked. "Really? Before you knew he was a raging psychopath?"

Molly nodded. "I had no idea. He found me on my blog and said he knew me from work. Said he was a guy in the IT department and asked me out for coffee. He was sweet at first, but he was just using me to get to Sherlock." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her cup hard.

"That must have been awful to find out who he really was. Did you guys... have sex?"

Molly looked ashamed. "Unfortunately yes. One night, after a date, we were watching Glee at my flat and it eventually led to us sleeping together. I can't-... I can't believe I had sex with someone so... _evil_."

Evelyn grabbed one of Molly's hands. "You couldn't have known. He tricked a lot of people, even Sherlock at first." Molly smiled at her gratefully.

"Yeah, well, let's talk about something else." Molly sat up straighter. "I told you about me, so now it's your turn!"

Evelyn was thrown off guard, which seemed to have been a common occurrence as of late. She quickly siphoned the information of her past life through her brain, picking out things that she could tell Molly without it being damaging to either of them.

"Uh... I grew up in the United States. Ohio to be exact. It was pretty rural, so I was used to large, open fields and long winding roads. I did live in a subdivision, in a small town. My childhood... had its ups and downs. My parents died in an... accident when I was eleven, and living in foster homes wasn't the best experience. High school wasn't too great either. I didn't actually have friends, because I was very different from other kids. I was very independent, and had to mature at a very young age. I went to college and got my degree in forensics, then worked for the government for a little while. But I needed... a change in scenery and moved away to come here." After she was done, Evelyn studied the notches in the wooden table with new found interest.

Molly seemed to understand, as when Evelyn met her eyes she was nodding her head and giving her a supportive little smile.

At that precise moment, something crossed between the two women that connected them together. Maybe it was their similarity in past experience and knowing the different hues of sadness one can feel in a lifetime, or perhaps just one look of understanding. Whatever it was, Evelyn could feel it in the air around them, and became very relaxed and content to just sit here and share tea and conversation with a lonely pathologist.

After a while, as customers came and went, the ladies agreed that their visit had to come to an end. Evelyn approached Molly and felt she was able to give her a hug after one friendly conversation and a large amount of compassion. Molly returned it happily, and after bidding one another good luck in terms of the winter weather conditions approaching, they departed in different directions. Molly was thinking about the new friend she just made, and how she just wanted to curl up with Toby on her plushy sofa when she got home. Evelyn walked quickly back to Sherlock's flat, interested to see what he had found at Scotland Yard, and hopeful that this new friendship would last, for the first time in her life.

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**A/N Thanks for reading! Real talk for a second: The day this is being uploaded is the day I finished writing this chapter. I have not even BEGUN the next chapter, so it'll come out whenever I finish it. I'm sorry but that's just how it is. I don't want to rush through anything and end up producing half-assed work just to meet deadlines. _Random reader: But you set those deadlines yourself!_ Hey stop being clever. Anyway, the point is I want to produce quality chapters, I have a life, and not every second is spent writing. Rant end. I hope you lovelies can accept that and thank you for reading this story! I really appreciate feedback and I hope you enjoy what's coming!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Yes I know it's been forever since I've uploaded a new chapter and I'm sure that annoying. Sorry loves! I just started college this past year and I hit a big creative block writing this one. But enough excuses. Here's Chapter Nine! Enjoy!**

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Evelyn arrived at Baker Street cold and happy from the walk back after meeting Molly. She took off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack next to the door. Evelyn rubbed her arms to fend off the chill and was ready to relax by the fire with a cup of tea. She was about to jog up the stairs when she heard voices. Sherlock's voice she recognized easily, but there was another man's voice that she couldn't quite recognize. A thought ran through her mind that the other man's identity could be Cromwell.

Panic surged through her bloodstream and she raced up the stairs as fast as she could, and burst through Sherlock's door. There was definitely another man there, but it wasn't Cromwell. Evelyn had no clue who it was.

Sherlock, who was sitting in his usual chair by the fire, stood up and came towards her. "Ah, Evelyn. You arrived two minutes earlier than I presumed. It's no matter. I'd like you to meet Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, this is Evelyn. She's been helping me on my cases."

A man who looked a few years older than Sherlock offered her his hand to shake and a smile. He had a tan complexion and graying hair that suited him well. His dark eyes crinkled when he smiled at Evelyn, and he wore a suit and a long overcoat.

"Hello, Evelyn. It's very nice to meet you." He lingered a little too long on the handshake, but Evelyn reasoned that if Sherlock approved of him, then there was a good reason for that. She simply decided to take it as a compliment.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I've heard a bit about you."

Lestrade gave her a half smile. "Really? Like what?" He seemed interested and flattered about something Evelyn hadn't even said yet.

Sherlock stepped in looking annoyed. "Anyway Evelyn, I visited Lestrade today about our case."

Evelyn was confused. Sherlock just told Lestrade everything without talking with her first? She was doubtful so instead she played it cool. "Really? Our current case?" She tried to not be too obvious, at which Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Evie. The one with the _kidnapped husband_." He raised an eyebrow at her. She opened her eyes wide at the realization that Sherlock must have overheard her and Molly's _entire conversation_. He must have had someone follow them. She made a mental note to have a talk with him about that later.

He continued. "I had Lestrade get me some records about the identity of Thomas Oliver, to give us an idea of where he might have been taken." His jaw clenched involuntarily, as did Evelyn's at the mention of that cretin's name.

She managed to maintain her friendly face towards her new acquaintance. "That's very good news. What did you find, Detective Inspector?"

"Greg is fine." Sherlock scoffed behind her, and she shot him a glare.

Lestrade continued. "So, I found out that he's a very wealthy man that currently works at the Ministry of Defense building-"

"Yes, Lestrade, we are already aware of his present activities. We need past information." Sherlock interrupted rudely.

Lestrade rolled his eyes like he was used to the idea of Sherlock being rude and went on. "Yeah, well, that information was a bit harder to find. After letting our guys run the database for about an hour or so on this guy, all they pulled up was a previous job history at a corporation at Nettle Inc., some bland grocery receipts, and the basics of his childhood. I have it all here." He reached for a file sitting on the small table next to Sherlock's chair, and waved it. Sherlock immediately snatched it from his grasp, opening it and flipping through the papers quickly.

"That will be all, Lestrade." He dismissed the detective without so much as a wave of his hand. Evelyn glared at the back of his head and smiled at Lestrade.

"Thank you so much for your help." She smiled and shook his hand, before leading him to the door. He returned the smile.

"Your welcome. Maybe we'll get to work together again sometime?" He sounded hopeful.

"Goodbye, Gordon." Sherlock spoke sharply.

Lestrade seemed surprised, and left quickly. Evelyn closed the door after him and turned to Sherlock. "Gordon?"

"Do catch up. I mistake his name to annoy him."

"I mean, I figured." She giggled. He smiled at her, then became serious, looking down at the file in his hands.

Evie took a step towards him. "Is it-?" She didn't really know what she started to ask.

Sherlock looked into her eyes a few moments. "Thomas Oliver did indeed work for Nettle Incorporated. He… was the Vice President of the company, one head below the President and Owner, Benedict Nettle. I looked through the files from his computer as well. Your… mother was his secretary, and your father was the head scientist working directly with him."

"Oh." She exhaled, and suddenly the room began to sway a little. She didn't notice that Sherlock had approached her until she felt his hard grip on her arms, keeping her from falling. She shook away the feeling and regained the ability to stand.

"I'm alright, Sherlock." He released her, but didn't step away. "My father… and mother… were working for him."

"The research of the company was almost entirely military-based and experimental, working directly with trying to discover and invent new ways of wiping out the nations of the United States' enemies. Although this was their main focus, their work was only funded on the small section of production making weapons the military actually used. It was their sole source of profit, yet they continued to put time and money into experimental designs. Nothing was seeming to work."

Evelyn bit her lip. "Except one man invented something that did work. My father. But it was too risky. He didn't want to put millions of innocent people's lives on the line, so he hid it away. My mother was the only person he trusted to tell about it."

"But Oliver found out about it, somehow. Perhaps a colleague ratted him out, or Oliver had hired someone to keep a close eye on your father. Either way, he most likely just wanted to sell the blueprints to the highest bidder. There's dozens of files about his clients and 'under-the-table' dealings. Your father would never had gone along with his plans."

"So he murdered them." The dizziness was returning, and before she could do anything, she was on the floor, and could barely make out Sherlock's face above her. The ringing in her ears was unbearable. The room faded to black.

* * *

She awoke in bed, but at once she noticed it was unfamiliar. The sheets beneath her hand was not a bright white, but a light blue-beige color. The duvet was also not thick and white, but striped. She sat up quickly. She was definitely not in her room. On one wall was a normal-looking dresser with a round mirror resting on top of it. There was also a framed, black and white photo of a man she didn't recognize. There was also a wardrobe, a few lamps, and a rather large periodic table hanging on the wall next to the door. Evelyn realized she was in Sherlock's bedroom.

Part of her wanted to scurry out of there as fast as she could, but another part of her wanted to snuggle up back in the sheets that smelled like him forever. She glanced outside and noticed it was dark out, and glancing at the alarm clock to her left informed her that it was eleven at night. For now, she chose the latter option, and with a flop laid back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Evelyn thought about what had occurred earlier that day, and what she and Sherlock had discovered. Knowing Oliver had caused this injustice that had thrown her life into chaos made something burn deep inside her. She was no longer afraid of what he could do to her, and just wanted to end his manic obsession with her once and for all. She was just glad Sherlock was there with her every step of the way.

As she thought this through she suddenly noticed she was not in the clothes she had been wearing earlier. Instead she was in her pajamas: a large t-shirt and no bottoms. Sherlock must have put them on her. Her face flushed at the thought of Sherlock undressing her, but knew to him it was just anatomy. She didn't think he could feel that way about her anyway.

As if on cue, Sherlock entered the bedroom. Evelyn covered her bottom half with the blanket quickly, then blushed and looked away from his gaze.

He sighed. "Yes, I dressed you in proper sleep attire so you wouldn't be uncomfortable as you slept. I have told you before it is simple anatomy. There's nothing to hide."

"Why… did you put me in your bed?" She asked timidly.

"I didn't want to have to keep going upstairs to check on your state of health, and it was more convenient to put you in here. Problem?"

"No! I just… you probably want to go to sleep. I'll give you your bed back." Evie threw off the covers and made like she was going to get up, but a wave of dizziness hit her like a brick and she sat back down involuntarily.

Sherlock closed the door and walked around the bed to his wardrobe. "Nonsense. You're obviously still feeling the effects of today, so you may sleep here while you recover."

He began to change, and although they were technically dating, Evie still turned her head to give him privacy. "But I don't want to make you sleep on the couch."

He snorted and she glanced over at him to see him in nothing but boxers. He was looking at her. "I will do no such thing." He walked over to the other side of the bed and got settled beneath the covers.

Evelyn was stunned. She didn't think Sherlock would try anything, so she didn't protest. Instead, she laid down and turned off the lamp next to her, scooting as far away from Sherlock as possible. He groaned in the darkness.

"Honestly, Evie. I'm not going to bite. Isn't this what people who… _date_ do anyway?" He said the word like it was a disgusting insect.

"Well, mostly but… I didn't think… you wanted this." She laid on her back and could see in her peripherals he was doing the same. Evie stammered as she felt his warmth so close to her.

"Sleeping in the same bed is hardly intimate, Evelyn."

Evie rolled her eyes. Apparently to him it wasn't. She didn't feel uncomfortable, but she knew she wasn't going to get much sleep that night. She decided to fill the silence instead.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, what?"

She fidgeted. "What… are we going to do now? Now that we know about Oliver, I mean."

He was silent for a few minutes. "I think our next move should be to make sure the blueprints are in safe hands." He shifted, and Evelyn looked over to see he had turned his head towards her. "You know where they are."

She glanced away. "Yes, I do. You remember my friend Adam I told you about?"

"He's the one who's been sending you money."

She looked into Sherlock's blue eyes. "Yeah. After I was sure he was alright and the suspicion was long gone from him, I mailed him the blueprints for safe keeping. He was the only person I trusted."

Sherlock nodded. "Can you ask him to come here? It's absolutely vital we have the blueprints. And it is very possible Oliver might already know of your past with him."

This truth made ice surge in her veins, and she shivered. "Alright."

Sherlock raised his head off the pillow slightly. "Are you cold?"

"N-no." Evelyn stammered, and this only lessened the effect of her denial. He rolled his eyes and lifted his arm: an invitation.

"I said I'm fine." She winced.

"Oh please." With one swift move he grabbed her shoulder and pulled, rolling her until her back was pressed against his chest. Her heart was beating loudly, as Evie recognized every part of his body that was making contact with hers. It _was_ very warm, and she found her eyes closing of their own accord.

His voice was soft yet so low she could feel the rumbling vibration in his chest. "Now get some sleep."

She adjusted into a more comfortable position and quickly grabbed his arm that was resting on his side, throwing it over her body. He stilled, surprised at the contact, but soon relaxed. In a few moments, they were both sound asleep.

* * *

Evelyn woke once again in Sherlock's bed. This time, however, she was not alone. Beneath her was something firm, a little hairy, and warm. She looked down beneath where her head was currently resting. Sherlock's chest was incredibly toned for someone so slim. Evie glanced up at Sherlock's face to see if he was asleep, which he was. She noticed one arm languidly wrapped around her, and felt its warmth on her shoulder blades. She by no means wanted to move from her spot, and blushed as she realized she felt happier than she had in a very long time. She absentmindedly traced a finger over the muscles of Sherlock's chest and bicep, smiling.

"Amusing yourself?" A deep voice jolted her from her daze, and her cheeks flared up again. How long he had been awake she had no clue.

"Sorry." She made to move off him, but his arm held her firmly in place. She looked up at him to see his eyes twinkling.

"I didn't say I wanted you to move. And stop apologizing. It's very annoying." He was smiling, so Evie didn't take offense.

Evelyn scooted upward, and lightly kissed him. He didn't push her away, so she deepened it, moving her mouth to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She shifted again, and doing so brushed her thigh against something hard. Evie immediately froze, unsure of what to do. She pulled away from Sherlock and stared at him.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." She winced. He didn't seem to show any emotion at all, just looking rather confused at the tent forming beneath the sheets.

"It's not your doing. I believe I woke up to this problem. Something I haven't done since I was twelve years old." He cleared his throat. "You should… get ready for today. We have a lot to do." He didn't make eye contact with her, nor her with him.

"Y-yeah, sure." She got up quickly and left his room.

She took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Evie exhaled, her heart thumping wildly at the awkwardness of what just occurred. She shook her head away from the thoughts and began stripping. She looked through what little clothes she possessed. Her mind was giddy with excitement at the thought of seeing Adam again. It's been a year and a half since she left the States, and she wondered about what life Adam had been leading while she was gone. She wondered if he had ever asked out that girl in the Narcotics department he thought was pretty. If they were engaged… Evelyn laughed at the strange tightening in her chest as she thought about it. She hadn't seen him for so long and yet still felt a twinge of jealousy thinking about him with another woman.

During their long friendship at the agency, they had never been more than best friends. They had flirted with one another occasionally, but neither had made a move or expressed their feelings. Evelyn had always wondered if there might have been something more if she had only had the courage to ask him out for a drink. While thinking, she decided on a large beige sweater and skinny jeans, along with some fuzzy socks to keep warm. She quickly combed through her curly locks with her fingers and went back downstairs.

She walked back into Sherlock's flat to see him sitting in his usual spot, wearing a suit. His dark hair was dampened from just coming out of the shower.

"Do you have any paper, Sherlock? So I can write to Adam?" She asked excitedly.

He looked at her and squinted, studying her. "Yes. In the drawer. Second from the right."

She had to restrain herself from running to the kitchen. She got some paper and a pencil, sat down at the table, and began writing. There was a lot of erasing involved, and thinking about what she was going to say. She began by asking how he was and, after much deliberation on the wording, if he was seeing anyone. Evelyn then got straight to the point, asking him if he was able to visit. She hesitated when she began to describe Sherlock and everything that's happened to her since she met him. Evie left most of the details out, including her new relationship with Sherlock. She decided it was a conversation best left to have in person, if at all. After signing the letter, she placed and sealed it in an envelope, writing out the correct address on the back. Evie also wrote a word right above the fold of the seal in small lettering so only someone who was looking for it would notice: lock. It was a code that he would recognize, letting him know the letter was from her and to only open it in a secure location.

She threw on her coat and put the letter in her pocket, turning to Sherlock.

"I'll just be a moment." He nodded and continued thinking.

She swept down the stairs and out the door, appreciating the biting nip of cold air on her nose. Evie walked along the busy street, knowing a post box was nearby. She was on high alter, however, and didn't take lightly the danger she might face while out in the open. She made sure to be almost invisible, walking closely to large groups of people and keeping her hood up. Finally, she saw a red post box on a busy corner, and casually slipped the letter in the slot. Then a few blocks away, she made a sharp turn down an alley and took the long way around to throw off any potential followers.

Evelyn was anxious to hear back from her long-time friend, and knowing she could keep an eye on his safety while he was close by decreased her stress. She knew they would face Oliver together, all of them, and she wasn't sure she was ready. Not to have her life back. All this time, she's been living alone, cut off from the world. Evie didn't know if how she would feel if she gained it all back in one go. She shivered from the cold winter air, and wrapped the coat tighter around herself, her worries blowing away in the light flurry that had begun to fall.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Yes, yes I know it's been months since I last uploaded. Excuses, excuses, college, life, etc. Sorry lovelies, life just happens. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!**

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Evelyn shifted the paper bag full of groceries to her other hip, reaching out with her right hand to open the familiar black door. She walked inside 221B Baker Street and exhaled, happy to be in the warmth of her new home. It was a particularly cold day, and Evie was more than relieved that she didn't have to sleep outside. She walked over to the table by Mrs. Hudson's door and saw there was mail. Excitement bubbled up inside her, and she set down the bag of groceries on the floor next to her. She began shuffling through the various envelopes.

It had been two weeks since Evelyn had sent her letter to Adam, and she had yet received no word from him. She knew the post took about two to three weeks to deliver mail, so until recently she hadn't really been checking for his letter. Now she checked every day, almost religiously. Evie scanned an envelope that was spam, claiming she won a free month vacation to the Bahamas. She rolled her eyes and flipped to the next one. Her eyes locked onto one small word written in almost incoherent scribble: _lock_. She gasped and dropped the rest of the mail. She picked it up hastily as well as the food she had purchased that morning. Evelyn all but threw the unimportant envelopes onto the table and ran upstairs.

She burst into Sherlock's flat like a bat out of hell, quickly setting the bag on the kitchen counter. Sherlock was down at Bart's hospital, checking out a body for a case Lestrade had desperately needed help on. During the past few weeks they had done little with the Oliver case, besides keeping a low profile until Adam arrived.

Their relationship had not changed much, with one exception. What had been a single night spent in the same bed turned into a routine for the both of them. Neither commented on her newfound presence in Sherlock's bed every night. It was just a re-occurrence. Nothing ever happened beyond sleeping, however, and Evelyn felt relieved about this fact. She felt comfortable and safe knowing Sherlock was the kind of man that would never try to take advantage of her, unlike some unsavory partners she's had in the past. She was genuinely happy with him.

Evie ripped open the envelope, but was delicate with the actual letter. Adam's font was near illegible, and was slanted slightly. It looked like he had hurriedly written it. She read:

_E,_

_ I got your letter with no problems. Work has settled down a bit, though I do remain on alert at all times. I still check my house for bugs every night, even though I know you'd make fun of me for it. I still think I'm pretty interesting, even if the government doesn't agree. You should see my grocery lists._

_The information is in safe hands. I'll tell you where I hid it in person, in case this letter gets intercepted._

_ I have already scheduled a two-week vacation, and will be in town two weeks and one day from the day I send this letter, if my estimations were correct and you got this two weeks after I sent it. I am interested to meet your new friends and personally thank them for taking you in. Meet me where our Journey began. At high noon, partner._

_ My personal life is going well, I suppose. I still work too much, as you used to point out to me practically every day. The huge Anna White case still hasn't been solved. Of course progress would be getting along faster if you were here. I hate that they've soiled your name, E. It was one thing to try and kill you, but another to say you are a traitor of the country. You've done too much good for them to slander you so easily._

_ No, I'm not seeing anyone. The girl from Narcotics got engaged while you were away. To that prick from Intelligence that was always too handsy with you, no less._

_ I got a dog. I know you're a cat person but she's sweet. A German Shepherd named Missy. Still a puppy. I'll have to bring her along with me, as there's no one to watch her, so be prepared for the little ball of energy. She's still being puppy-trained._

_ This detective seems like an interesting character. We'll all have to go get drinks when I get there. As with this O, I'm a little concerned. I managed to run him through our database and it doesn't look good. He's way too involved in our own military than can be good for us. We'll talk more once I see you._

_ Looking forward to seeing you. It's been too long._

_-A_

Evelyn reread the letter a few more times, smiling all the way through it. He sounded just the same. Her eyes were drawn to one little sentence more than any of the others: _No, I'm not seeing anyone_. She pushed it from her brain completely, instead deciding to plan ahead for the fact that Adam was arriving tomorrow and she was definitely not prepared. She scanned over the code where they would be meeting. She instantly noticed that the word "Journey" was capitalized. Evie grinned, knowing exactly where he meant.

The first time they met was at a work party, and they were both quite drunk. They got to chatting, when a Journey song came on titled "Wheel in the Sky". They both cheered and danced together, quite sloppily, and since then their friendship only grew. She knew immediately he meant to meet at the London Eye, the largest wheel in the sky there was.

She wasn't sure how having a puppy around was going to help much, but she had always been an animal person, and welcomed the chance to have a furry companion around. Her family used to own a cat when she was younger, a tabby named Tarzan, and he seemed to only get along with her. All she could hope for was that Missy was potty-trained.

Evelyn thought about what she was going to say to Adam when he arrived as she began putting away groceries. Mostly she thought about the fact she would have to eventually tell him about Sherlock, not because he would find out on his own, but because he was her friend and he deserved to know. She was sure he'd be happy for her, but she wanted to make sure he knew she was still there for him, no matter what.

Once she was done putting away the groceries, she walked over to the fireplace, letter in hand. She saw there was already wood in it, so she grabbed a box of matches from the top and lit one. Evie stared at the paper one last time, before setting it and the envelope ablaze, dropping them both onto the dry wood before the fire reached her fingertips. She absentmindedly jabbed the logs with the fire poker, then left the fire to burn of its own accord.

She went up to her room to her closet and opened it, shuffling through her clothes until she came upon what she was looking for. She took it back into Sherlock's flat and sat in John's old chair. Almost robotically, she began disassembling it. Evelyn recognized the black gun in her hands with ease, remembering the feeling of its cold metal against the small of her back as she traversed through the Ministry of Defense. It was a STI Lawman 4.0, a standard 9mm pistol used mostly by law enforcement agencies. It was popular for its soft recoil and tactical sight, which allowed the user to maintain precision and absolute reliability. Evie ran through this information in her head as she took it apart completely. She wanted to check out the state it was in before Sherlock found out she still had it. As much as she thought he was a genius, she wasn't willing to give up her safety for the sake of his pride.

It checked out good, so she quickly put it back together and reloaded it. Evelyn took it upstairs and hid it once again. When she came back the fire was still burning strong. She sat down and massaged the bridge of her nose. Looking around at the flat, Evie wondered what Adam would think of her new life. Before the chaos, she was living alone in her one-bedroom apartment with no company but the pizza delivery man that occasionally rang her doorbell. Now it seemed her life was one big hurricane of crazy after another. Parts of it were good, even better than she'd ever known, but others were bearing down on her so hard she wasn't sure she could take it. For once, Evelyn had the crazy revelation that she was actually living.

Every day of her life seemed more and more like a contradiction. It was like good and bad experiences were hand in hand with each other. Before, any experience at all was rare, and the only rush she got was from taking down some drug lord in some country somewhere. Now every feeling she had waged war in her heart, and everything was significant. And for some strange reason, the stirring in Evelyn's chest was not one of frustration and anger, but of gratuity. She was seeing clearly for the first time, it seemed. All these years of running had been to return to the life she had thought was the one she wanted, but she was wrong. Evelyn wasn't fleeing _to_ her old life, but was fleeing _from_ it. And the one she stumbled upon was actually one worth keeping.

Now was her chance to let the past be just that. Evelyn felt that if she were to actually end Oliver's torment, she could finally start anew, the way she wanted. And without even thinking she knew that future included Sherlock. She saw herself with him, solving crimes, their relationship unfaltering. Being with John and Mary, as they should. Molly as one of her closest friends and allies, and Mrs. Hudson a strong confidante and mother-figure. Evelyn felt as if she could weep with happiness at the mere thought, and was so overcome with desire for it that she was ready to take on Oliver that day.

She took a deep breath, calming herself down. She'd been getting way too emotional lately, and she wasn't used to it. Evie had always been taught that emotion just got in the way. She was much more effective as an agent if she just shoved her feelings off to the side. All these new ones were overwhelming.

Her keen ears picked up the sound of the front door downstairs opening. She figured it was Sherlock, but her hands involuntarily gripped the arms of the chair a little tighter anyway. The sound of footsteps crept up the stairway. The wooden door to the flat swung open, and in stepped the consulting detective. Evie let out a sigh of relief. Sherlock removed his coat and scarf, hanging them up. He was wearing the usual black suit but with a black dress shirt underneath. Evelyn admired his effortless grace for a short moment, before Sherlock turned to her.

He sniffed the air and glanced at the blazing fire.

"Adam's letter came in the mail today. You burned it to get rid of evidence."

Evie was a little taken aback, but was getting more and more used to his deductions.

"Yes. He'll be here tomorrow. I'm supposed to meet him at the London Eye at noon tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"

She looked away. "Well… no. But the rest was just fluff. It doesn't really matter."

He walked over to his chair and unbuttoned his jacket before sitting down. "You're embarrassed. Do you not want me to know about your past life?"

"No!" She exclaimed. "I just… it's hard, Sherlock. Letting someone in." She winced.

He nodded. "You know I would never betray your trust. I will listen, if it pleases you."

She stared into the fire and took a deep breath. "Alright. You know a lot about me already, but I haven't told you much about Adam. He's been my best friend for many years. The only person I could really trust. We met at an office party the first week I began working for the FBI. We became instant friends. I remember our first mission together." She paused, hesitation growing in her eyes.

Sherlock shifted. "If you can't talk about it, I won't make you."

"No I… need to get this out." She continued. "We were in Tokyo, following the crime syndicate Yakuza. They had been smuggling drugs out of Hawaii to Japan for a long time, using the state as a gateway to their own violent practices. The FBI had managed to receive intelligence from an important member of the Yamaguchi-gumi, one of the world's wealthiest gangster crime organizations. We were tailing him secretly back to his designated headquarters. Adam was my boss, training me as we went along. It was my first mission, simple recon, but it didn't start off well. We had bugged the guy we were following, and monitoring communication from a nearby skyscraper, one which was abandoned. I was an amateur, we were spotted. Before we both knew it, bullets were flying through the air, shattering glass all around us. The only cover we had was a few large columns throughout the empty room. I didn't make it to one in time." She closed her eyes, hearing the sounds of high-speed projectiles and seeing Adam's terrified face as he realized she was too far away from a concrete pillar. "I got hit, I was down. They were still firing at us, as I slowly began to bleed out. It would have only taken a matter of hours. But Adam saved my life. He took the only grenade he had, threw it across the two skyscrapers, and managed to get it into the floor we were being fired upon from. That gave us just enough cover for Adam to scoop me up and get us the hell out of there. He carried me down fifty flights of stairs. By the time we were back into our safe house, I had a fever, and was as pale as a ghost."

Evelyn stood up and lifted her shirt, exposing her abdomen. She lightly touched a spherical scar where her rib cage began. Sherlock's face was stone.

"Adam stitched me up. The bullet was still lodged in my side, and we were the only ones there. All I had was a bottle of Jack and a clean rag to bite down on. It was hell, but he saved my life. He's always been good to me, through the good missions and the bad ones. He never let me blame myself for any of it, no matter how many… people I've had to kill. Even though it burned me inside."

Sherlock stood too. She looked away, thinking of all the screams she's heard in her life, and how many were her fault. He made her look at him, and the echoes of pain slowly faded away.

"Evie, understand there are also things in my life I am not proud of. People whom I've tried to help. Solve a case for. They've ended up dying, though they shouldn't have. There's been people I've pushed away. I have regrets. Everyone does. You and I, we just have to do our jobs. It's who we are."

Evelyn shut her eyes. "My life has been a blur. A violence-filled blur. And I'm not sure how to make it stop."

"I'll tell you how." He touched her cheek gently, like a mother would her child. "We end this, once and for all."

Evie smiled. "God you're dramatic."

"We fit well together then." He smiled back, and she tugged on his lapels, pulling him down so his lips met hers. She dug her fingers into his dark curls and pulled him closer. He gripped her shirt, holding the small of her back. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

"You're _very_ good at that," Evie panted. "Had much practice?"

Sherlock glanced to the side. "I've done my research."

"Wait, you _researched_ how to kiss properly? That's dedication." Evie raised her brows. "That wasn't your first kiss, was it?" She was suddenly worried.

He simply rolled his eyes. "Please. I did attend college."

She nodded. "Yes, well, on that subject…" Evie didn't make eye contact.

Sherlock was suddenly confused and wary. "Yes?"

"Uh…" Evelyn froze, her mind screaming at her. She'd never felt more awkward discussing anything with any past partner. "Have you… ever-?" She left the question where it was, unable to go further.

The lines in Sherlock's face didn't go away. "Are you asking about my past sexual relationships?"

Evelyn's heart practically stopped beating. "Yes." She whispered.

He pulled away from her, and she was already mentally berating herself for even asking.

"Is this something that's important to you?" His tone was cold.

Evie shook her head. "No. I'm sorry I asked Sherlock, if it makes you uncomfortable. I don't care if you've been with five women or eighty. Your past is your past. I just wanted you to know that I've… uh…" Somehow Evelyn, in her mad scramble to take back her personal questioning, turned the tables on herself.

Sherlock was still silent, looking like a deer in headlights. She was on her own.

"I've only… h-had… sex once." The last word was more like a squeak, which was a rarity for her. She flinched, awaiting his laughter or scoffing at her lack of experience. His face evened out, and Evelyn was now the baffled one.

He tilted his head. "You were afraid I would humiliate you. You believe I have had many sexual partners in the past."

Evie didn't even breathe. "Well, obviously, I mean look at you. You're practically perfect."

Sherlock's eyes filled with warmth. "Evelyn, I'm a virgin."

Evelyn's mouth dropped. "W-what?" She was completely astonished. Here she was thinking he was some sort of sexual god when he somehow had less experience than her. She suddenly realized the meaning behind his coldness when she first brought it up. It wasn't that he didn't want to share his many conquests, it was that he didn't want to reveal his lack thereof. He was insecure, and thought she had way more sexual experience than him. She thought he'd judge her, and he had thought she would judge him.

"But… you said… you went to college?"

"Yes, as a young adult I felt I needed to get that mundane 'first kiss' ceremony out of the way as fast as possible. Mycroft was being obscenely annoying about it. As for intercourse, it was simply unnecessary and distracting from work."

"Huh. That's quite relieving actually." Evelyn smiled.

Sherlock smiled back. "So, why did you bring up this topic in the first place?"

Evie's smile fell clean off. She was sure he knew exactly why she brought it up and just wanted to see her squirm. Well two could play at that game.

"No reason." She grinned.

Sherlock's smile disappeared at not receiving the reaction he was hoping for. "No." He came closer, towering over her. She held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away or make her feet move. His face was inches from hers.

"You want me." His voice was low and rumbling. Heat pooled in Evelyn's lower stomach area, a feeling she'd never had before.

"Uh…" All coherent thoughts left her mind. All she could focus on was his warmth getting nearer, and the shape of his lips as they moved closer to hers. Right before they touched, Sherlock smiled a triumphant smile.

"Interesting." He then stepped away completely, leaving her a panting mess as she realized what he was doing. She thought she had won their banter, but he just completely demolished her victory. And all it took was seeing the straining of his shirt buttons and his perfect cupid's bow. Damn him.

"Sherlock! What the hell?" Evie exclaimed, flustered beyond control.

He simply chuckled deeply at her frustration and escaped to his room.

Evelyn stared at his door, tempted to rush in there and make him finish what he started. But she shook away that feeling and sighed instead. That man was going to be the death of her.

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**A/N: Man, I love sexual tension. Don't worry lovelies, it is all building up to something in the near future. That's where the M rating comes in, aside from the language. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter. Sorry about the extreme writer's block! I know I have no excuse.**

**WARNING: This is the chapter where the M rating comes in. If you don't much care for smut, you can just skip the end of the chapter. For the rest of you, all that sexual tension finally lets loose, so enjoy!**

* * *

Evelyn woke early, before the sun shone over the city. Her excitement was akin to Christmas morning. _Adam is coming today_. She threw off her covers and leaped out of bed with a loud thud. Then she realized that other people in the flat were sleeping, or trying to, and began tiptoeing to her wardrobe. She decided on jeans (her go-to) and a soft flannel, believing comfort was the way to go that chilly morning. Evie took the clothes downstairs with her to Sherlock's bathroom, where she showered and got dressed. She was glad she remembered to grab some socks, for the floor was rather cold, as was the weather outside.

Evie was starting to crave coffee again, now that she was able to consume it on a daily basis. She contemplated running to the nearest coffee shop and picking up a cup, but didn't want to risk leaving the flat without anyone knowing where she was. She knew bad things were apt to happen that way. Instead, she mentally shrugged and figured Sherlock wouldn't mind if she used his coffee machine. Now that she thought of it, she wasn't even sure he had a coffee machine.

She creeped into his flat all the same, and instantly noticed that all he had on his counter was a kettle. Evie quietly searched through his cupboards and managed to scrounge up some instant coffee. She started up the kettle and waited until it was boiling, then grabbed a mug and some milk. Measuring out the coffee, Evie added it to the mug as well as the water. Then she added milk and sugar to make it the perfect blend between sweet and bitter. She inhaled the aroma slowly, appreciating the scent, before sipping the hot beverage. It was like heaven on her taste buds, even though it came from a cheap powder.

She sat down in John's chair, gathering her feet under her like a cat. There she sat until the sunlight spilled over the room, illuminating it with the faint glow of morning. She was perfectly content, coveting the bliss of being able to sit cozily in a warm place and enjoy the sunrise. The feeling of excitement still buzzing in her bones sent her out of her chair, making her unable to sit still for any longer. She cleaned her dishes and put them away, before walking languidly to the window and watching the passersby below.

Suddenly, a long hand was placed on her shoulder. Being abruptly interrupted from her relaxed state sent her instincts into overdrive. Before she could even think logically, she had the hand in a wrist lock, and the person, whose wrist she held in a tight grip, was sent to their knees with a grunt.

Evelyn stared down at Sherlock in shock. She was so entranced in her thoughts she didn't even hear him approach.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't break my wrist." The familiar deep baritone knocked the sense back into her, and she immediately released him. Sherlock rubbed his wrist and had the faintest of smiles on his face, obviously somehow amused. "Remind me not to catch you by surprise."

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock! I-I wasn't thinking straight." Evie stuttered sheepishly. Sherlock stood, brushing the dirt off the knees of his trousers.

"It's alright. I failed to deduce how much of your combat training was still instinctual."

Evie was glad he wasn't angry with her. She raised a brow. "Sherlock Holmes admitting he's wrong? You must be an imposter."

He smirked. "Don't get used to it. It's a rare occurrence. I do admit, however, that your wrist lock was superb."

"You have Adam to thank for that one. Speaking of which," she checked the time and saw she had an hour to spare. "I should probably leave soon. He's always early; a habit I've picked up from him."

"As you wish." He strode over to the coat hanger, gathering his long Belstaff and scarf, before opening the door and turning towards her expectantly. She was a bit surprised.

"Wait. You want to come?" She didn't know why she had assumed he wouldn't want to accompany her. Probably because she figured he had better things to do.

He sighed. "Obviously I will have to meet Adam eventually. I would rather it be sooner than later." She nodded, and grabbed her coat from the hanger as well. Together they left the building, stepping out into the biting winter day. Evie shivered and zipped up her coat, mentally longing for the days when her favorite military jacket was sufficient for the weather. They took their time walking to the London Eye, partly because they left so early, and partly because they simply were enjoying each other's company.

Evelyn glanced at him often from under her lashes, admiring his features, as she was apt to do when she knew he wasn't looking. She had to stifle a giggle as she noticed his stiff walk, his arms swinging slightly. Her hand twitched, and she knew exactly why. Sherlock _had_ said he consented to public affection, so she gave in to her feelings. Evie slowly and hesitantly brushed her fingers against his. His step faltered for an instant, and he jumped as if startled. He must have been in his mind palace, she reasoned. She looked up at him, and he at her. Evelyn gave him a questioning look, and he rolled his eyes before entwining his fingers with hers. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't seem to stop grinning. He eventually grew comfortable with the act, and even occasionally traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. They continued their journey, hand in hand.

The London Eye loomed over them as they drew closer. Evelyn was practically bouncing on the soles of her feet the nearer they got to it. She searched for Adam among the crowds of people, eventually leaving Sherlock's side to walk ahead. Her eyes wandered frantically, until her eyes locked on a familiar face.

Adam saw her the moment she saw him. He had been leaning against a lamp post, casually watching people pass. When he saw Evelyn, he smiled his characteristic smile, crooked yet so genuine. Before she knew it, she was sprinting past dozens of people, her eyes and mind set only on her best friend. Adam recognized her excitement, for he had set his feet apart and arms spread wide to encompass her. She leaped into his arms, laughing hysterically as he lifted her off the ground and spun her like a scene in a movie.

"I missed you, Evie." He spoke in her ear. She gripped him like she would never let go. It had been far too long since she saw his face.

"Missed you more." She laughed and finally released him. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her up and down.

"You changed." He smiled wider.

"How so?" She didn't think she had changed much.

"You look more… healthy. More color in your face. And your eyes are practically sparkling." He raised an eyebrow. She blushed, before gazing right back at him.

"You haven't changed a bit." She punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed.

"Hey now, I've been working out." He flexed in a silly pose, and she giggled. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He turned away from her and whistled sharply. Evie followed his gaze and saw a large German Shepherd puppy bounding towards them. Once she was close enough, Adam scooped her up into his arms, letting her lick his face.

"This is Missy." He said, patting the pup on the head. "She's a handful."

Evie ruffled her fur with both hands. "She's adorable. Is she allowed to be running around without a leash?"

He shrugged. "No, but no one exactly cares. If a policeman happens to come around, I just stuff her down my shirt and run."

She snorted. "A plan fit for Napoleon." At his laughter, she suddenly remembered she arrived with someone. She spun around, looking for Sherlock. She spotted him looking very uncomfortable a few yards away. She nodded at him, and he slowly approached them with a stiff posture.

"Adam," she began when Sherlock was close enough. "This is Sherlock Holmes. The man who saved me." Sherlock looked at her quite incredulously, but said nothing.

Adam stretched out his hand and shook Sherlock's. "It really is quite a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I can't thank you enough for helping my Evie." At those last two words, Sherlock's mouth seemed to turn up in a small grimace, enough for Evelyn to notice.

"Well, _Adam_, it seems I wasn't aware she belonged to you." His voice was short. Evie's jaw dropped at his frank rudeness.

"Uh… n-no she doesn't! That's not what I meant. Wait, why does it matter to you?" Adam stuttered at first, but then his brow set. Sherlock's face remained stone, meeting Adam's challenging gaze with a cold stare of his own.

Evie intervened before things could escalate. "Um. Hey Adam, how about we head back to the flat? That reminds me, where are you staying?"

He turned to her and his face smoothed out. "Oh, just in a hotel nearby. I gotta say, sneaking a growing German shepherd puppy into a nice hotel is pretty difficult, even in retrospect of the missions we've completed." She laughed, and the tension dissipated.

They all began walking back to 221b while they continued chatting. Well, Evie mostly talked with Adam while Sherlock lagged behind. They slowly began to fill in the pieces of each other's lives that they had missed in the past years. Evelyn was glad to hear that Adam hadn't gotten into too much trouble while she was away, and that he was safe back home. She filled her best friend in on all that had happened in the past few years of her living in London, careful to leave out the details of her and Sherlock's relationship. She wanted to break that to him another time. Adam seemed shocked at all she's been through, even though they both knew it wasn't that different from their chaotic lives in the FBI.

They arrived at Baker Street in a rather good mood. Sherlock continued to sulk, but Evie and Adam were beginning to become the friends they once were. They took off their coats and settled around the roaring fireplace, Missy laying on the floor by their feet. Evie was surprised at what a behaved dog Missy was once she settled down.

Once they all defrosted, Evie opened the conversation. "So Adam. You have the blueprints?"

He nodded, digging in his pocket for something. He pulled out a small silver key. "As soon as I arrived here I rented a safety deposit box at a place about thirty minutes from here. It's there." He checked his watch. "It's too late to pick up tonight, so we can get it tomorrow morning."

Evie nodded, glancing at Sherlock to see if he wanted to chime in. He didn't.

"That sounds fine… Look Adam, I'm a little concerned for your safety." She said it outright. It had been bothering her a bit since she was reunited with him, and looking back on all the threats Oliver made and all he did to make her life hell caused anxiety unlike any she'd felt before.

Adam raised his eyebrows and chuckled lightly, despite her serious face. "Evie, c'mon. We've faced loads worse stuff than this. I bet this Oliver is nothing compared to those guys the FBI sent after us."

Evie shook her head, and the tremble in her hands matched that of her voice. "No, Adam, this is different." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. He seemed to finally take her seriously, and stared at her with concern.

"What did he do, Evie?"

She closed her eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. She then began to recite everything that Oliver had done, including the death of her parents, him beating the shit out of her then kissing her, and his plans for ultimate power with the hypersonic weapon blueprints. Adam took this all in quietly, but Evelyn could see the small quivering of rage beginning to form underneath that stoic brow. It was an emotion she had seen only three times in the time she's known him, and it frightened her to see him lose control in the only way he could. After she finished, they sat in silence for a moment. Adam sat forward, taking her hand in his.

"I'm… so sorry I wasn't here, Evie. We'll take this guy down, you and me. You won't have to worry about him anymore, and the blueprints will be safe."

Evelyn smiled, finally beginning to feel reassured about the whole situation. "Thanks, Adam. We've always been the ultimate duo in the FBI. But," she began and stood, looking at Sherlock, "we need help on this one. Sherlock is the bravest and most intelligent man I've ever known. If anyone is fit to assist us in taking down Oliver, he's the one." Sherlock stared at her, appreciation twinkling in his eyes. Adam nodded, clearly a bit disappointed, but stood with her, glancing at Sherlock.

"Alright. If you say he's trustworthy, I'll take your word for it." He stuck out his hand. To Evelyn's great surprise, Sherlock stood and took his hand firmly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Not to worry. It should be fairly simple, if the plan I've come up with manages to go smoothly." The side of his mouth lifted in smirk, and Evie was relieved that he was getting along with Adam.

She walked towards him and placed her hand gently on his arm, then looked at Adam. She inhaled deeply, trying to slow her pulse. She had been worrying about the right time to tell him, and when she saw the two of them getting along she felt the time was now.

"Adam… uh… there's something you should know." Evie looked to Sherlock for strength, and he gave her the slightest of nods, just what she had needed. "Sherlock and I… are… together." She held her breath. Adam looked between the two of them, then raised his eyebrows.

"That's uh…" He was at a loss for words. "Unexpected?" He saw the fleeting look of hurt on Evelyn's face, then was flustered. "Not bad though! Just surprising! Not that you would pick a guy like him. I mean, not that he's bad. It's just-"

"You're rambling, Adam. We will continue our relationship with or without your approval." Sherlock pulled Evie closer, a bit defensively.

Adam huffed. "Look, I know. I just want you to be happy, Evie. If you're happy, I'm happy."

Evelyn grinned and threw her arms around her best friend. "Oh thank you Adam!" She laughed and released him from her hold. "I was so worried!"

Adam's face was incredulous. "Worried? Why would you be worried? You think that little of me?" He playfully punched her arm.

She smiled. "Well, you are the man who forgot my birthday so instead showed up a week later at my apartment at two in the morning. Also with a cake that had my misspelled name iced onto it."

He shrugged. "Hey, the lady at the bakery did it, not me."

She rolled her eyes, then turned to Sherlock. "Alright, so what's the plan? I'd like to get this prick Oliver out of our lives as soon as possible."

Sherlock smiled deviously. "I have a few ideas. I would suggest us going over it tomorrow. I believe it would be more effective if we prepared with clear, refreshed minds. It's too late now."

Evelyn agreed. At the sound of a light whimper, she looked down to see Missy at her feet, staring up at her. She smiled and bent down to scratch the pup behind the ears. It was a comfort to feel something warm and soft beneath her fingertips. The dog gently licked her fingers.

Evie looked up at Adam. "Will you be alright by yourself?" She didn't want him to be jumped on the way home. He saw her concern and chuckled.

"Evie, how long have we been doing this? I'm honestly a little offended you have so little faith in me." He scooped Missy into his arms. "We'll be just fine. I'll see you two in the morning?" With a nod of agreement from Sherlock and her, Adam turned to the door.

Evelyn decided to at least see him out. She led the way and let him out onto the cold street, then stopped him before he could leave.

"Please be careful. I can't have something happen to you too." Her voice was soft.

He smiled sadly at the reminder of her past. "Don't worry. This will all be over soon." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, a light brush of his lips that made her skin warm. "And I really am happy for you Evie." He walked languidly toward the main street to hail a cab.

She sighed and closed the door. Once upstairs, she saw Sherlock standing by the window, peering out of it. Of course he was watching her and Adam.

Evie crossed her arms. "See anything interesting?"

"Not particularly." He turned around. "He finds you attractive."

Her cheeks flared. "How do you know that?"

"The way he stares at you when you are looking the other way. Pretty conspicuously I might add... You love him." His face was completely devoid of emotion.

Her eyebrow set in anger. "No! I am with you, Sherlock!"

He approached her. "You blushed when he kissed you, and also when I mentioned the fact that he has feelings for you. They are clear indications, _Evelyn_."

His use of her full first name stung. "Okay. Maybe I did like him before. He was the only person in my life for _years_. My best friend. My partner. But I never acted on those feelings. And neither did he." She glanced away. "But I met you. So all of that is in the past."

His eye twitched. He stared past her like he was contemplating something. "And yet the blush doesn't lie." He didn't seem to care about what she had confessed.

Evie studied the ground. "…I'm sorry. I can't control my body's reactions. But my heart is in the right place, Sherlock. Maybe before you try to deduce mine, you should take a hard look at yours." She turned and left the flat, heading upstairs to her bedroom for the first time in weeks. It smelled a little musty, but she didn't mind. It was a satisfying solace for her to think.

Evelyn sat on the bed and controlled her breathing. She felt so astonished that Sherlock would even think that way. Maybe the logic was there, the facts. But she felt it was easy enough to see with her heart that her feelings for Sherlock overrode any leftover ones she had still for Adam. Mrs. Hudson did mention, basically, that it was extremely difficult for him to have emotions. She began to wonder if his lashing out was simply a form of jealousy that was accidentally unchecked. Evie could have punched herself after realizing the thing that was staring her in the face. She had hurt him with her words, she was sure. His whole life of being rejected by everyone around him, and she had gone and done it herself. At that moment, a quiet melody danced into her room, filling the air with a sweet melody. He was playing the violin, something he only did if he was on a case or was in deep thought. She knew the case had made some headway, so she knew it wasn't that. It could only mean their argument was the cause.

Without an hour yet passing since their argument, she was already softly descending the staircase into Sherlock's flat. She stopped in the doorway when she saw him in his chair, eyes closed, violin deftly at his chin. Evie hadn't thought of what to say to him, but decided to just wing it. She knew he had heard her when her foot hit the first step on her trek downstairs, so she simply sat across from him and stayed quiet until he decided to speak first. It was when she began truly listening that she realized it was the song he played for her within the first week of her stay. She recognized the emotional tune, but was surprised when he didn't end it at the same place he had before. Instead, he continued playing a part that was totally new. Evie sat amazed, listening to the different melody. It was just as beautiful as the rest, but in a new way. Whereas the first melody was upbeat with soft intervals, this part of the concerto was extremely legato and melancholic, with the key staying mostly minor. She had a sinking feeling she was partly to blame, but rolled her eyes once she realized how immature he was to play it in her presence.

She finally cleared her throat, and his playing ceased.

"Please get out whatever insufferable apology you need to before I go mad." He said quickly and shortly.

Evie took a deep breath and clenched her fists. "Sherlock, I understand you see things through your mind, but I need you to also understand that I see things with my heart, and no matter how things might look to you about Adam and I, all feelings I have for you override any leftover feelings I may have for Adam." She rushed out her unrehearsed speech. He sat there in his chair and just looked at her. She waited for him to speak, but he didn't. He had an expression that seemed to say he wanted her to continue, so she did.

"I… the truth is, yes, I did blush when Adam kissed my cheek and when you mentioned him earlier. Yes, I had a brief moment of weakness when I finally felt the gratification of having my _years_ of hoping for something more than a drink and a hug not gone to waste. But I realized something the second his lips met my cheek, Sherlock." He raised a brow. "I realized all the time I wanted something more from him, he could never have given it to me. I realized he's more a brother to me than anyone, and no matter how much I hoped he could be something more, he just isn't it… It was _you _who I was hoping for. But… dammit!" She stood, her emotions bubbling over. "You can't just flip out whenever you feel an inkling of jealousy! And you can't push me away for some insignificant fucking reason like my best friend coming back into my life! I mean, Jesus, Sherlock!" She was pacing now. "I hate it when you do these things but it's just so hard to stay angry at you because I understand your logic but it doesn't make things any easier and I wish I could just tell you _I love you_!" Her hand immediately clapped over her mouth, her eyes widening as she realized the pit she had just fallen into.

This time his silence was deafening. She contemplated running back to her room and never showing her face again, or possibly jumping out the window and ending it all then. Sherlock's eyes never left hers. He stood slowly, the light from the fire illuminating his face. He took two short steps toward her, until she could feel his breath on her face.

Evie thought she was going to be reprimanded or shunned. She turned her head away from his gaze, and was surprised when his hand pulled her face back to him. His eyes had a sparkle of amusement in them. She went from afraid to confused. Before she could open her mouth, he bent his head down and claimed her lips with his own. She stilled until he pulled away. His eyes were piercing, and his pupils had dilated tenfold. That gave her all the confidence she needed.

She pulled his head down so their lips could meet again. It had been way too long since they had kissed like this. His hands moved down to her back, and she yelped when he scooped up her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She broke their kiss to give him a questioning look. He began walking, and her heart impossibly began pounding harder when she noticed it was towards his bedroom. She kissed him hungrily on the lips, then the side of his mouth, then his cheek, then jaw and neck. Barely noticing when he shut his door behind them, she was tasting every inch of skin she could find with her mouth.

Evie let out a rush of air as he laid her on his bed. He broke contact for only a moment, and instead met her eyes.

"Is this what you want?" He was asking for permission.

"Yes, Sherlock." Her answer was immediate and full of love. His response was to kiss her again and again. She slipped her hands between them and unbuttoned his suit jacket before sliding it off him. He threw it precisely onto a chair in the corner. Ah, those straining shirt buttons. She let out a small giggle at the prospect of finally being able to undo them. He let her, then threw his shirt next to the jacket. She marveled at his bare skin, although she had seen him naked before, even if accidentally. But now, she had time to memorize every muscle and every scar. Evie traced his chest with her hand, over the small patch of hair in between his pecks, over his nipples, at which he let out a deep groan. Evelyn paused for a single moment to trace a few thin scars on his chest, wondering how he got them but too distracted to ask. She ran her fingers over every rib, down his stomach, and gently over the pertinent bulge in his trousers.

Suddenly, her hand was gripped by his, and she met his eyes.

"Not yet." His voice was sin, deep and velvety. It sent a shiver down her spine. He brought her hands together and swiftly placed them above her head. She had the good sense to keep them there, as he moved his hands over her torso. He began unbuttoning her flannel as she had done to him, but it was much more slowly. Every pop of a button made her heart flutter. He finally undid them all, and she sat up to help him remove the shirt. He lifted her tank top over her head as well, leaving her in her bra. Evie silently cursed herself for not choosing something sexier that morning. It was a simple navy blue one with a hint of lace, an everyday bra. He undid her jeans and pulled them down her legs. Evie then turned around and silently praised herself for having put on the matching underwear as well as having shaved her legs that morning.

He ran his hands over her legs, before towering over her and crushing their lips together. He sucked her neck and she couldn't help but whimper, not caring one bit about the mark that was sure to be left there. Sherlock slid one strap of her bra down her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"Do you have any _idea_ how long I've waited for this?" She could feel him lightly tug on her earlobe with his teeth, and instantly felt her underwear dampen. With one graceful movement, her bra was undone and thrown across the room. He didn't hesitate to clamp his lips around one pert nipple. She moaned as he massaged the other, while sucking fervently on the one in his mouth. Her hands wrapped themselves in his curls, not caring any longer if she was supposed to keep them above her. Evie's hips lifted of their own accord, straining to get closer to his. He noticed her tenacity and reached down with the hand that wasn't busy, holding them down, preventing her teasing. He switched to the other nipple, before kissing slowly down her stomach. Sherlock paused in his exploration when he reached the bullet scar on her abdomen. He traced it gently, before leaning down and softly pressing his lips against it.

Evie realized where his line of kisses was leading, and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock. Y-you really don't have to." She had never had a guy go down on her before, even the one man she had had intercourse with, and wasn't willing to admit she was a bit nervous.

He leaned up and briefly brushed his lips against hers. "I want to." Sherlock resumed his position between her legs. He was very precise and patient, not diving straight into oral sex as most would have done. Instead, he began by worshiping her legs, kissing and massaging every inch. She finally began to relax, and so understood the reason he was being so thorough. Evie sat back onto the pillows and just enjoyed the sensations, until she jerked up again after feeling one hard nudge against her clitoris through the thin cloth of her undergarments. Sherlock was staring at her and grinning.

"Don't want you falling asleep now." The cheeky bastard. He kept eye contact as he inched her underwear down her legs, and her breath hitched. Now she was exposed, a feeling she didn't like. She semi-consciously closed her legs, but he tenderly opened them again.

"Don't be nervous, Evie. I researched the subject thoroughly." She didn't have too much time to think on that remark, for at that moment his mouth made contact with her sensitive button. Evie made a squeaking noise, and Sherlock glanced up at her like he was studying her reactions. With his index finger, he slowly dragged it up and down her slit, causing her to make some inhuman noises. Without warning, his finger entered her. She gasped loudly. He began thrusting it in and out, her juices providing more than enough lubrication, stroking her inner walls with a "come hither" motion. He rubbed a spot inside her that made her see stars, and that was before he added two fingers, then three. It was stretching her a bit uncomfortably at first, but soon her walls adjusted. Then he was adding his tongue into the foreplay, lapping at her stray juices and flicking her nub. Soon she was a writhing mess. Evelyn felt like he was playing her like his violin, perfectly precise yet wildly passionate. She finally understood the saying about sleeping with musicians. She felt an orgasm coming, one much more powerful than any she could have given herself.

"Sherlock… I'm… I-" She tried to warn him, but he only pumped his fingers faster, and his lips clamped around her clit, sucking hard. It was all over. She covered her mouth with her hand to try and stifle the loud moans that were extracted from her body. He continued his torture as wave after wave of intense pleasure travelled through every nerve in her body. He slowly worked her down from her high, and, when she found the energy, she looked down at him through half-lidded eyes. When he saw her watching him, he took the time to suck her juices off every one of his fingers. He was smiling arrogantly, and rightly so.

"Virgin my ass. Where did you learn to do that?" She panted.

"Internet." He waved his hand like it was an offhanded question.

She laughed and pulled him on top of her, kissing him passionately, tasting herself on his tongue. Evie suddenly flipped them so she was on top, a motion which made him slightly gasp. She grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

"My turn." With those words, she swiveled her hips, grinding her naked clit on his clothed erection. He groaned, and she smiled at the power she now had over him. He might be more intelligent than her in almost every way, but in the bedroom, she was the more experienced one.

"These have to come off." Evie undid his belt and pulled down his trousers and boxers. His cock stood firm, and she was happily surprised to see he was more well-endowed than she had originally guessed. The hair around his shaft was perfectly trimmed, a fact Evie had a strong suspicion was planned for her benefit. But, she wanted to get some payback for what he did to her, so for now she ignored his stiffness. Instead, she began at his perfect cupid's bow, sucking it into her mouth. She made her way down his neck and his chest, paying special attention to his nipples as he had done. Once Evelyn reached his manhood, Sherlock's breathing had become shallow and insistent.

She looked up at him as she seductively licked one long stripe from the base to the tip. His eyes widened. If this was his first blowjob, she was going to make it count. Without warning, she enclosed his head with the wet heat of her mouth. Sherlock groaned loudly. She sucked hard, rubbing his shaft up and down while her other hand massaged his testicles. With as little experience she had, Evie put it all to practice. She alternated between flicking the tip with her tongue, swirling it around the head, and gently scraping her teeth along his sensitive skin. She took as much of him into her mouth without gagging, and what she couldn't fit in she rubbed furiously.

Within a very short amount of time, Sherlock was grabbing her shoulder, stilling her.

"We don't want this over before it's begun, do we?" He was panting and looking disheveled, and she could tell he had lost some of his overconfident attitude he had possessed earlier. She smiled to think she was finally making him let go and just enjoy the moment. He quickly flipped her so he was once again on top.

He leaned over to reach his bedside table drawer, pulling out two different condoms. He sat back on his feet while Evie just gave him a questioning look, wondering why he was comparing condoms when he should have been fucking her.

"You are tested, correct? This being my first time, I know I do not have any STD's, but got tested just to be sure. I am free from any spreadable disease."

"Yes, I'm clean, Sherlock."

"I researched different types of condoms and what would be more pleasurable, and have found these to be suitable. They are both polyurethane, as I didn't know whether you had an allergy to latex or not. This one," he began explaining as he held up a purple wrapper, "has ridges which is said to increase arousal and enhance the woman's receptive nerves in the vagina, while this one," he held up a golden wrapper, "is ultra-thin and made to feel almost imperceptible. Which would you prefer?"

She began giggling, then laughing loudly. She couldn't help it. Sherlock was confused, then almost hurt. She tried to stop.

"No, no! Sherlock, it's not you. It's just the fact you planned this down to a T. It's perfect really." Evie tried to be as sincere as possible. "You pick one. We can always try out the others later." Her seductive smile seemed to work on bringing him back in the moment. He ripped open the package of the gold one and swiftly placed it on. He settled his hardness at her opening.

"Wait." Evie stopped him. He looked up at her. "I… it's been a long time. Go slowly?" She asked with pleading eyes.

"As you wish." He smiled, before reaching down and carefully guiding himself into her until just his head was inside. It wasn't terrible, so she gave him the okay to keep going. He inched himself inside until he was fully sheathed. Sherlock stilled himself to allow her to adjust. It was painful, definitely, but she wanted to give him this moment.

"Move, Sherlock." She urged him. He nodded and slowly slid out of her, then all the way back in, until he was moving at a comfortable pace. Soon, her walls got used to the feeling, and pleasure began seeping back into her system. She gripped his back as he thrusted into her over and over again. She began moaning, as did he.

"F-faster." She breathed. He lowered himself onto his elbows and pounded into her, at which she cried out. He knew exactly the right angle to position himself so he was hitting her g-spot every thrust. His groans became closer together, and she knew he was close.

Without warning, he reached in between them and began stroking her clit with fervor, causing her to involuntarily dig her nails into his back. She threw her head back as her orgasm quickly approached. With a few more thrusts, she was gone, her second climax ripping through her with such force her vision faded for a few moments.

"_Evie._" With one last breathy groan, Sherlock came. Him moaning her name like a benediction only increased the intensity of the waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Her fluttering walls milked him dry, and when it was over, he collapsed on top of her, though not uncomfortably. They were both sweaty and sticky from their passionate act. Sherlock rested his head on her chest for a while, and she stroked his hair.

Eventually he pulled out and rolled off the bed, peeling off the condom as he did so. He threw it in the trash can by the door.

"I'll be right back." He left the room. Evie didn't have much time to be confused before he reentered the room, damp washcloth in hand. He had cleaned himself up a bit in the bathroom. Sherlock proceeded to do the same for her, careful to be gentle on her sensitive areas. After he was done, he left again to place the cloth in a hamper, no doubt.

Sherlock returned to the bed for the final time, getting under the covers and holding Evelyn close. She sighed contentedly in his arms.

"Wasn't so bad for my first time, was it?" His teasing tone was rough and deep from sex, making her shiver slightly. She kissed his palm.

"Hard to say. We'll need to conduct more research to make a proper conclusion."

He chuckled, then leaned down by her ear, whispering seductively. "That won't be an issue."

She felt herself dampen at his words, but pushed the feeling away, craving sleep. Instead, she snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling every scent he had to offer. His body was like a radiator, emitting enough heat to block out any hint of the winter weather outside. Soon, they both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing, tangled in the bed sheets.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Don't criticize me too hard, that was my first writing of smut. I did gather some research beforehand so I hope it wasn't too terrible! I really wanted their first time together to not just be silence and rough sex, which is why there's so much dialogue and pauses in their exploration. I figured there would be fumbling and a bit of awkwardness (even though Sherlock did his research as well), since it was Sherlock's first time and Evie's second, so I hope that came across. Anyway, enough explanation. Thanks for reading!**


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